When the Cat is Away
by BBC
Summary: Ch. 40 starts "The Governor's Games" and torture. What happens when the Governor gets his hands on those from the prison? It won't be pretty. Rick and Daryl have no idea of the danger they've put themselves in. Trouble from within the prison threaten to destroy everyone. Tempers flare and mistakes are made with devastating consequences. Some Caryl but major Rickyl bromance. Torture
1. New Additions

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of it's characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Some chapters will be M later on.

"When the Cat is Away" Takes place directly after the end of Season 3. If you haven't seen it yet, then what the heck are you doing here? Go. Watch. It.

The first chapter starts off a little slow so no hard feelings if you want to skip ahead.

* * *

Rick had a thousand words he wanted to say to Carl but in that moment, he couldn't find one of them. He stood silently as his own son turned a cold shoulder to him and headed into a different cell block. "_He…no, Carl will be fine," _Rick convinced himself. That was all he could do. He hoped that whatever dark shadow that had crept into Carl's heart would fade on its own because he could simply not deal with it. He had a responsibility to take care of his people and those coming in from Woodbury. The Governor was still out there and there was no telling if or when he'd return. They'd soon be in the deep clutches of winter and they just got nearly thirty additional mouths to feed. Food was scare as it was and then the number of walkers seemed to increase day by day. It was almost too much and Rick squeezed his tired eyes closed. He seriously thought about turning and walking out the gates and leaving the prison to the first person that stepped up to lead it.

"_I could find Morgan…" _Rick opened his eyes as he felt one of the Woodburrians brush against his arm as they funneled into C Block. The woman gave him some semblance of an apology and continued into the prison.

Ten minutes later Rick had everyone, both old friends and the recent additions assembled outside of the cells. He frowned in on himself. It was like he was staring at a nursing home and a daycare. Carol helped an older gentleman to a seat and already the man looked winded. A few of the children cried and huddled around Karen, who they had known from Woodbury. These people were neither fighters nor farmers. And they needed both. Desperately.

Some of the Woodburrians rustled in their meager belongings as they waited for this man, Rick, to address them for the first time in their new home, or that was what he had called it. It didn't look like a home. Not to them. Home had been Woodbury. Woodbury was bright and charming. This place was a prison—literally. They couldn't help but notice the everlasting smell of decay and sweat that clung to them here. Woodbury had been safe and this prison, with its crumbling façade, was a dismal attempt at staving off their inevitable doom.

Most didn't know what to think when Karen, Sasha, and Tyreese dropped in with this Rick person, some woman wielding a katana, and a guy with a crossbow. But they understood soon enough. They believed Karen. They believed it when she said how the Governor murdered most of their own people—friends, family. They believed the Governor was a force worse than the walkers when they were shown Andrea's body and how she died because of a bite from Milton when he was left to turn in the room with her. They knew this man had lost it and they needed to get away while they could. So now they stood and looked up at this new leader of theirs, half wondering if he was capable of the same madness, half wondering if he had any food.

Rick gazed tensely around the familiar faces and ran his hands through his hair. He noticed Maggie patting Hershel on the shoulder and moving closer to Glenn. Glenn wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. "You're safe here," Rick nodded to the crowd. "Everyone is safe here. I don't want you to think of this as a prison. It's a home. We're going to be family here and make a life for ourselves. I can see the way you look at me. You look at me the same way you probably looked at the Governor when he promised you safety, but it won't be like that. My name is Rick Grimes. I was a sheriff. I had a wife, Lori. She died giving birth to my new baby Judith…"

Beth shifted unconsciously as she felt the nervous gazes pass over her and the baby in her arms.

Rick nodded once again feeling his words starting to take effect. "I've lost good friends, good people. Too many good people. We've all lost people. We've lost them to those _things _and to bad men like the Governor. And I say it's been enough. Let him have Woodbury, if he wants it. Let him live with the madness that he created there. But I will not let anything happen to anyone within these walls. You…are…_safe_," he said and took a step forward. "If anyone tries to harm us, whether it's the Governor or walkers, they will die on our doorstep and we will burn their bodies with the trash." Rick looked to Hershel who nodded silently. "I never wanted this to be a war. I'm sorry," he finished quietly.

"We'll be safe here," said Sasha with a warm and gentle smile. Rick immediately cursed himself for once turning her and her brother Tyreese away.

"It doesn't look like much now, but we will make this place our home. Hershel here," Rick motioned towards the old vet, "says we can get some crops going once winter lets up."

"The Governor had a pretty good garden and plenty of other seeds in storage," said Tyreese. "I think he was trying to find a place like this so he could plant them."

"Then we'll go back to Woodbury in the morning and take everything that we can. We'll take anything we need to make ourselves more comfortable here. This is the only cell block that is really cleaned out for now but we can work on the others tomorrow. For now, please feel free to rest," said Rick.

"How'd you lose your leg?" asked a small boy who had been staring oddly at Hershel since he arrived. Karen quickly bent down to scold the child but Hershel chuckled.

"I got bit," he said with ease. The boy's eyes widened to the size of golf balls. "But they took good care of me here. And these are my daughters Beth and Maggie." Both girls raised a hand and offered a friendly smile.

"I'm Glenn," said Glenn cautiously, "and Michonne stayed in Woodbury for a while."

"It's good here," said Michonne with a hard face but her voice was sincere.

Carol moved to stand with Beth and reached to take Judith from her. "I'm Carol," she announced.

"I also have a son, Carl," said Rick. "But he has some things to take care of and then he'll be around."

"Can't miss him. Always running around with a sheriff's hat on," added Carol as she cradled Judith.

"And this is Daryl he's…" Rick turned to an empty space behind him.

"Daryl?" questioned Glenn as he dropped his arm from Maggie.

Rick's eyes swept the room but found no sign that Daryl had ever entered the cell block with the group. His stomach clenched and he fought the urge to storm off looking for Daryl for fear it'd upset the peace he just tried to instill.

"He'll be around too," said Hershel.

* * *

Daryl almost laughed as he thought how weird it was to actually be driving a car for once. He was so used to his bike, Merle's bike. He liked the openness and the freedom it offered. He was so vulnerable on it—all exposed like he was. It wouldn't take much to get close to a walker and be bit and there was nothing to stop a bullet if those started flying. Wasn't much good in bad weather either, or on rough roads. But he had been riding for a year and nothing happened. Every time he rode it was like he was telling the world and everything in it, alive or otherwise, that it could go to hell.

And that's where he'd send the Governor soon enough.

Daryl knew, he just _knew_, as he intercepted Michonne on her way to the prison that Merle was going to be dead. He allowed himself the hope that maybe he'd be wrong. Too much time with Carol had rubbed off on him. And he felt sort of like that. Like he knew Merle was out there, somewhere, but didn't know if he was dead, alive or what. The not knowing was the hard part. He wasn't going to get himself worked up over it like Carol had; he couldn't risk losing his head with the Governor roaming about. But he held onto the hope that no one could kill Merle but Merle even as he approached the old feed store where they were supposed to meet with the Governor. Only there was no Governor; just the bodies of his men.

Most had been picked off cleanly with a bullet to the head. Daryl praised Merle's shooting: even with one hand that bastard was a better shot than half the prison. There were a few stray walkers eating on the freshly dead but the sound of flesh being stripped from bone hardly registered to Daryl. He was listening for something else. If Merle was alive, he would have already called out to Daryl with some smartass comment about being late and missing all the action. There was no way the Governor would leave Merle alive after an ambush like this. He was going to find his brother dead with two shots to the head because the Governor would want to make sure he'd killed Merle good. Except Merle wasn't dead.

Daryl's mind swayed like a train had run into it when he saw his brother eating another man's flesh. At first he didn't want to believe it was Merle—damn his hope—but the proof was all there. His powerful body, his face, his knife hand. That was his brother.

Merle surged toward Daryl and the scent of fresh meat and Daryl's heart collapsed. This was worse than the rooftop in Atlanta because this was final. There was no more hope that Merle was out there alive.

Daryl struggled with finally ending his brother's existence, not wanting to believe it was real. But he imagined that somewhere in that thing that was Merle, his brother was cursing him and calling him a pussy for not putting him down instantly. "_Hell if I could do this myself, I'd done it already,"_ Merle's voice taunted. "_Ya don't do it then I'll bite ya and what'll Officer Friendly…"_

Daryl drove his knife into the center of his brother's head over and over and the voice stopped. He fell to the ground next to his brother's body and cried until he heard a new walker approaching. He got up, ended that walker with his knife (though not as passionately as Merle) and headed back to the only family he had left. He had to get back before the Governor made another move.

The Governor…he would pay…for _this_…

Daryl drove the Hyundai up next to the body of his brother. He got out and raised the trunk. His plan was to take Merle back to the prison and bury him with the others because that was where he belonged. He was a part of the prison, even if Merle would never admit to that himself. Daryl took a heavy breath and leaned down over his brother. The Governor wanted him to suffer. He couldn't just kill Merle. Oh no. That'd be too humane. He wanted Merle to die, turn, and then be found like this. Daryl curled his fists so tightly the skin on his knuckles threatened to split at the sight of Merle's mangled hand and bullet wound to the chest.

Something inside Daryl snapped. And he was strangely ok with it.

His mind became unexplainably clear and focused. It was like a severe case of tunnel vision. He was going to put one foot in front of the other until it brought him right up to the man that did this. Daryl said nothing as he tried to lift Merle's body and move it to the car but it was too heavy. Hell he should have known with the way Merle was always able to kick his ass. Bastard had been eating better than him too. Always taking a little extra at the prison and now he had a full stomach of human too. Daryl lowered Merle's top half down again and knew this was a job for two people but he had to do it himself. He attempted to move Merle again but was forced to dispatch a walker that was trying to get acquainted with him. He quickly aborted his third attempt when two walkers stumbled at him from around the front of the car.

"_Fuck it_," he mumbled. "Yer own damn fault," he said and turned away. Defeated, Daryl walked the area until he came across the car he assumed Merle had driven. In it he found half a bottle of whiskey. He sighed then returned to Merle. He bent down and removed Merle's knife from his stump and tucked it into his belt. Daryl pressed the whiskey to his mouth and took a sip, then offered some to Merle's body as a toast to his brother's final act in this world. Daryl became severely aware of the lighter in his pocket and how its weigh seemed to pull at him. Without really thinking about it, he pulled the lighter out, flicked it and dropped in on Merle's waiting body. He'd given Daryl his first cigarettes and lighter, seemed right to end it with him too. Daryl took another drink and got back in the car before the smell of the burning corpse settled into his clothes. He'd be damned to have that smell stuck on him. But he sure as hell wasn't going to return to the prison empty handed.


	2. Who's on Watch

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated M for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

"But it's getting dark out," said Carol fearfully. Daryl had been gone for most of the day and despite their best efforts, he couldn't be tracked down. They hadn't directly expressed that they were worried about Daryl because it was well, Daryl. The man could take care of himself better than anyone else. They figured his disappearance had something to do with Merle and they'd count on him to grieve in his own way. Carol was clearly the most troubled and soon her anxiety began to wear on the others, especially Rick. Michonne had come forward and offered to go out looking for him but Rick shot the idea down.

"He should have been back by now," said Glenn with an uneasy edge sneaking into his voice. Everyone felt safer when their redneck was closer at hand. Maggie frowned and twisted her hands. Carol hovered around Hershel while Rick had his eyes pressed closed in thought. "We don't know where he went and he should be back by now. And what was he thinking taking one of the cars?"

"Thinkin' 'bout dinner," came a rough voice from the entrance of the cell block. Everyone stirred as Daryl strode in with his crossbow over his shoulder and a few splatters of blood that Carol swore weren't there earlier in the day. "Got a couple o' does. They're in the car. Might've exceeded my bag limit," he said with a side glance towards Rick.

Rick smiled in relief.

"I won't tell anyone…need a hand?" he offered and broke from the others.

"Nope. Just need somethin' to put 'em in so the meat don't go bad."

Daryl pressed by the group and picked up an ice chest they scavenged from Woodburry. Michonne eyed Rick as Daryl marched back outside without another word.

Daryl knew he picked up a shadow and tried to ignore it.

He was doing ok but it just bothered him like nothing else to know Rick was back there just staring at him. "Figured we could smoke 'em," Daryl said and gestured to the deer without turning from his work. "Keep us fed for a few days. Maybe Hershel and some of these other dinosaurs can get some crops goin'…'bout all they're good for," he finished lowly.

"You'll never hear me complain about the food you get. Except that owl. Don't shoot one of those again," Rick tried to force a small laugh but stopped when he saw the way Daryl's hand paused momentarily as the memory from several months ago came back to him. Normally that wouldn't have bothered Daryl except back then Merle was still alive and now he wasn't…that stung.

He continued to carve the deer and placed the meat in the icebox with care rarely seen. Rick tilted his head as he took in the hunter and tried to figure the best way to deal with him. That was if Daryl could be dealt with. Was Daryl upset? He had to be. But then again, Rick had been willing to bet earlier that Daryl had gone after the Governor on his own. He expected the man to return to the prison with the Governor's eye patch; certainly not a trunk full of deer. He was taking the loss of his brother surprisingly well. Or maybe there was something still simmering in that Dixon's blood.

"I'm…" began Rick but quickly thought better of his words. _I'm what? Sorry for you loss? I'm sorry I didn't kill the Governor when I had the opportunity? I'm sorry your brother died to even our chances against him for no reason? I'm sorry Merle died a hero even though no one was around to see it?_

"If you see Carl, tell him not to stay out too late," Rick squeezed out and turned on his heel but Daryl's voice called him back.

"Been cleanin' out one of the other blocks. Saw him when I drove up. Guess that's where we'll put Woodburry."

"Well, I was thinking I can put him in charge of that. I'll ask some of the others to start helping him in the morning. All of us in C Block might get a little crowded."

"Hell, we don't want them dinosaurs dying in their sleep an' comin' back. Don't wanna wake up to one of 'em chewing on my leg…"

_Again_. Daryl finished in his head. But he pushed that memory down.

Rick's gaze on Daryl deepened.

"I'll take your shift on watch tonight," he offered the hunter.

"Like hell ya will," came Daryl sharply. He slung a chunk of meat into the ice chest and glanced at Rick over his shoulder. "Yer fallin' asleep right now."

Rick smiled briefly and nodded. "Been a lot going on. But you need it. You…you need it after…"

"Ya well we need ya here."

Rick opened his mouth in disbelief and closed some of the distance between them.

"I am here."

"Ain't what I meant." Rick was silent while Daryl motioned with his bloody knife. "Can't go slippin' off with the Governor still out there."

Rick dropped his head and turned from Daryl. He found a strange fascination with the mud caked on his boots as he walked back to the door. He nearly collided with Carol as she guarded the entrance into the cell block.

Rick smiled weakly and placed a hand on the woman's shoulder to guide her inside.

"He ok?" she asked in a cracked voice.

"It's Daryl," said Rick simply.

"I know it's Daryl. That's why I'm asking if he's ok. We can't lose him, he's too important to this group." Carol fought the tears that she'd been holding back most of the day. Rick drew her in as she wiped her eyes.

"He'll be fine Carol. We can all keep an extra eye on him. We have more of those to spare now."

* * *

Rick slunk into his cot even before the pale orange sunset had faded into twilight. He heard movement in the cell next to his and assumed Carl had come in. That was his last thought until Carol came around to get everyone up for breakfast. Rick sat up and rubbed his scratchy eyes. He'd slept for a full ten hours but it might as well only been ten minutes. He tried to rise from the cot but his body protested something awful. It was like all his muscles turned to stone in his sleep. He knew that was the longest he'd rested since, well, probably his stay in the hospital. His body was simply not used to being allowed to relax.

Hershel ambled by the cell door and Rick forced himself to his feet.

"Get some sleep?" asked the old vet.

"Too much," Rick admitted.

"That's not likely," said Hershel and the two began to walk towards their makeshift cafeteria area. Woodburry was already gathered along with most from the prison. Hershel and Rick sat down at a table with Glenn and Maggie. Beth came around with two bowls of what looked like grits and a small selection of canned fruit. Rick passed on the fruit but Maggie took a can of peaches from her younger sister and set them down in front of Rick before he had a chance to argue. She leaned back slightly and her eyes darted from the can and then up to meet Rick. Glenn smirked privately and dug into his breakfast bowl. Rick poked his fork in the can at the precious fruit and tried not to feel too guilty about eating what another might need more than him.

"Are you still thinking of doing a run back to Woodburry today?" asked Carol, preparing a bottle for Judith.

"Yes," Rick swallowed. "I don't want to go back anymore after today. It's too likely that the Governor might try to reclaim it."

"Which means we'll have to start going on longer runs. This area has been picked pretty clean by both of our groups," said Glenn.

"It's a risk we've got to take," said Rick. "There's enough of us now that we can send three or four out on extended runs without it jeopardizing everyone."

"Do you think there is someplace better than this prison?" came the voice of an old man from Woodburry.

Rick couldn't just say that'd he sooner die than give up the prison they'd fought so hard for. This man had no idea of the blood it'd cost them. "Maybe. And maybe we can find it. But I don't want to abandon this place until we are certain. I'm sure there's a National Guard camp somewhere that we haven't found yet."

"I'd like it if we could try to find it," said the man.

"We will certainly—"

Rick stopped as Michonne blew in, her eyes narrowed to mere slits. "Who's on watch?" she cut in. "Glenn, you were supposed to wake me up. We can't let our guard down with the Governor alive," she said rounding on the young man.

Several of the others straightened up. Had they been left unguarded during the night?

Glenn shrank against Maggie knowing with a flick of her wrist, Michonne could slice him in two with her katana. "Uh…Rick was before me and he never woke me…" he refused to meet eyes with the sheriff knowing Rick needed to rest more than anyone.

"Daryl took my shift," said Rick apologetically. "I guess he…"

Carol felt a strong heat rise into her face. She tried biting back her tongue but couldn't keep it between her teeth. "So he's been up all night. He doesn't need that! So much for keeping an eye on him!" she roared at Rick. Everyone paled as the usually meek woman came to life. She thrust baby Judith into Beth's arms then stomped out of the cafeteria after throwing a few murderous glances back at Rick.

Rick stood from the table, head hung low after hearing a door slam deep in the prison. "Michonne, Maggie, Glenn…I think we need to find out what's going on in the guard tower."

The four left the cell block in a solemn line. As they crossed the yard, it became clearer that no one was looking forward to the talk they were about to be forced into. They were headed towards an intervention with possibly one of the most unstable individuals in the group. They'd all witnessed the raw power that Daryl kept hidden under his tough exterior. He'd gotten better about channeling it into productive activities but it was still an ever present threat.

"This is such a bad idea," muttered Glenn.

"If you've got a better one I'd love to hear it," said Rick.

"Yeah, anything other than this."

"Look," said Rick halting the group, "we need Daryl. If anything happens to me, I want him to lead y'all. He's extremely experienced with killing walkers and we'd all starved long ago if it hadn't been for him. He's the best at surviving in this world not to mention he's the only one I'd trust to take care of Carl."

"He'd give his life for Judith," said Maggie.

"Little Ass-Kicker," corrected Glenn making everyone smile just a bit.

Rick started walking again. He got maybe ten feet when he saw Carl cutting between cell blocks. "Wait here a moment," he said before dashing off after his son. "Carl!" he called out. "Carl!"

Carl tried to act like he was ignoring his father and quickened his pace but Rick was still able to catch up.

"Carl," he said and reached for his arm.

Carl wrenched his arm away and spun to face his dad. "What?' he snapped.

"I…I…" stuttered Rick.

"What is it?" Carl growled. "I've got things to do."

"I, I know you do," said Rick earnestly. "I was going to ask if you would be in charge of getting the other cell block ready for the people from Woodburry. We can't have them all in C Block with us."

"What do you think I've been doing?"

"I know but I want this to be your thing. Your project. I'm going to get Tyreese, Sasha, and Karen to help you. Maybe after that you can look at sealing off that back portion of the prison they said was falling down."

Carl eyed his father cautiously.

"My thing?" he asked.

"Your thing. And if you need any supplies, you'll be in charge of going on runs for them. How does that sound?"

"Good," said Carl after deliberation. Rick swore that maybe he caught a glimpse of the little boy Carl used to be shining through. "Send the others over when you round them up."

"I'll do that," said Rick. Carl half smiled up at his father and then continued on his way.

Rick wiped his brow: Carl was dealt with. For the moment. Rick was right when he figured Carl would do benefit from time away from him. He needed some project to work on independently or in charge of a small group. Sasha, Karen, and Tyreese were easy enough to get along with and wouldn't give him much trouble but could still keep him in check.

"Let's go," said Rick to Maggie, Glenn, and Michonne. They noticed he had a little more confidence in his stride after talking with Carl. If only things would go as smoothly with Daryl.

They climbed up the guard tower with Rick in the front followed by Michonne then Glenn and Maggie at the end. When they got to the top, the door was shut tightly. Rick turned the door knob and then shoved against it with his shoulder to open it. He spilled onto the observation deck almost causing Tyreese to drop the binoculars he was holding.

"Jesus Christ man," said Tyreese clutching at his chest. "Shit, I thought you were a walker coming up here."

"What's going on?" asked Glenn.

"Y'all could've said something; I'd have opened the door for ya," said Tyreese. He set the binoculars down on the railing he was leaning against. "I've still got another two hours left on duty here. Everything ok?"

Rick checked the faces of his companions and they looked just as confused as he felt. "Where's Daryl?"

"I'm not sure."

"Come again?" said Rick cocking his head and advancing on Tyreese.

Tyreese shrugged. "He came and got me up for my shift just before sunrise then about a hour ago he drove out in the silver truck. Did he go on a run?"

The sheriff's eyes grew dark. "None that I authorized."

Tyreese panicked and grabbed the binoculars. He held them to his eyes and scanned the tree line and road leading away from the prison. "Shit man, if I had known I would've tried to stop him or come and told ya…" He turned back around after a moment of silence and found himself alone of the observation deck. Moving around to the back, he saw Rick and the others running off towards the line of parked cars.


	3. Pays to be Observant

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated M for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

A/N: There will be more action, just had to get the people from Woodburry settled in First! Here's the next chapter!

* * *

"So how many square miles do you think the state of Georgia is?"

They'd been only driving for five minutes but Glenn couldn't stand the quiet. He glanced over Rick's shoulder at the speedometer and saw the needle flirting with ninety. He cringed and took Maggie's hand in his.

"Almost sixty thousand," answered Michonne from the front passenger seat.

Glenn frowned and rested his head against the window. "Great and just so we're clear…we're going after the one man that will be impossible to find if he doesn't want to be found, correct?"

Maggie leaned over and touched Rick's shoulder as he quickly veered off the road to avoid a group of stalled out cars. The speedometer barely registered a change. "Rick…_ouch_…" she hissed as they were jostled going over a rut. "Rick, he's probably just out hunting like he was yesterday."

Rick's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Oh he's out hunting, but not for food."

"You don't think he'd…" trailed Glenn, "…by _himself_?"

Glenn received his answer when the speedometer crested over one hundred. Michonne kept her steady eyes out the window taking in every little detail they sped by. Nothing was out of place…yet. There were no herds of walkers and no armies of the living. There was nothing to say that the Governor remained in the area.

"_Shit_," cursed Rick unexpectedly and the car fishtailed horribly as he hit the brakes. Michonne braced herself as the car swerved. In the back, Maggie and Glenn tried to get a better view but couldn't see properly over the hood. Rick didn't even have the car in park before Michonne was out the door and had her sword drawn. "You two stay here," said Rick to the couple in backseat. Maggie and Glenn exchanged a worried look and both put a round in the chamber of their guns.

Rick pulled his revolver from its holster at his hip and jogged to where Michonne was standing several yards behind the car. All his law enforcement training had just come screaming back to him when he saw the way a walker had appeared to have been run over and then dragged for a distance underneath a car before becoming dislodged. Michonne jabbed at what was remaining of an arm, her face turning up in disgust.

"It's fresh," she stated.

"Freshly turned and recently run over," noted Rick. There was no mistaking how this had been a new walker maybe only an hour before. Michonne used the tip of her katana to roll the corpse over while Rick moved in to inspect it better. He could tell the walker had once been a Hispanic man, maybe in his forties, but the face was shredded beyond recognition. His clothes, apart from being dragged along the road, were in relatively good shape. He wore a jacket and long sleeves under it along with a thick pair of pants and hiking boots. This man had been dressed for the weather. Rick moved his hand over the empty holster at the walker's side and noticed what was once a sheath for a large knife on his belt. "Michonne, go back to where he was initially hit and see if there are any weapons there," said Rick in a low voice.

Michonne obeyed and followed the trail of blood and chunks of skin to a large splatter thirty feet behind them. "Nothing there," she reported back.

Rick looked up briefly as Maggie and Glenn joined them. "What do you think?" asked Glenn.

"Well," said Rick opening the walker's jacket, revealing a bullet hole over its heart with blood that was still wet, "I think someone is deliberately making more walkers for us…His weapons are gone, even his knife. And this…" he pressed the end of his revolver into the bullet hole, "says that he was murdered…recently."

"Daryl?" whispered Maggie.

"Yes…" started Rick, "and no. I'm guessing Daryl is the reason for this mess," he said and motioned to the frayed body and drag marks.

"You think he saw this one and hit him?" guessed Glenn.

"Easier than stopping and getting out to finish it off. He's in the truck, he's not going to swerve," said Rick with a dark smile.

"He probably gunned it and then just turned the windshield wipers on. That truck probably isn't too silver anymore," said Glenn. Maggie rolled her eyes and smacked her fiancé on the shoulder. "This is the road that goes to Woodburry, right?"

"Yes it is," confirmed Rick. "This man was killed, stripped of his weapons and anything of value he was carrying then left for someone else to deal with. The Governor is closer than we think." Rick straightened and wiped the blood off the tip of his gun. "We'd better get going before Daryl pulls a Merle and becomes a Merle."

Daryl's trail was easy enough to distinguish after that: Just follow the path of walker corpses that littered the road and shoulder. "He's certainly efficient," remarked Maggie after they passed the fifth walker that'd been plowed over so hard its head wasn't even attached to its body. "Hope there's still a truck left by the time we get to him."

Rick lost count of all the traffic laws he broke on his charge to the gates of Woodburry. There was speeding, stop signs he blew through, and failure to yield for a pedestrian (he didn't really want to hit the walker and gave it a glancing blow off the passenger side). They raced on for another half hour until they saw the signs pointing towards Woodburry. Rick eased off the gas and approached at a more cautious speed.

The town didn't appear much different, from the outside, but it was what he might find on the inside that unsettled Rick. That feeling that something was wrong wasn't abated any when Rick saw the gates to the town wide open—the exact opposite from how they'd left them on their last visit. Rick parked the car just on the left of the gates, he didn't want to chance driving in and right into a spray of bullets. He put one hand up to his mouth and then motioned for everyone to get out of the car. The four moved quickly to crouch down next to the wall. Michonne raised her katana over the neck of a nearby walker and severed its head in one clean stroke. She then took the head and eased it onto the tip of the blade. Rick nodded in approval once he realized what she was doing. Keeping close to the wall, Michonne raised the walker's head into the opening in the gate. The group held their breath as they waited to see if anyone would take the bait. The seconds turned to minutes and Michonne lowered her sword. She slid the head off and onto the ground and wiped her blade clean. "_Mirror_," Rick whispered in her ear. Michonne tilted the blade, maneuvered it around then pulled it back with a shake of her head.

"_Damn it Daryl," _sighed Rick and he pressed his head against the wall.

"What do you want to do?" asked Glenn.

"We're going to go in there and kill anything that's not Daryl. Stay behind me and don't split up. We have no idea what we might be up against." Rick stood and moved around the gate with the others following at his heels. They charged through the gate while keeping as low to the ground as possible.

The streets were clear of walkers despite the gates being open. There were no signs of the trucks the Governor used and they weren't being fired upon. They advanced farther in until Rick held his hand up after being alerted to a sound from a building on their right. Everyone froze with their guns raised. There was a loud banging noise and then the muffled curse from a man's voice. Rick's trigger finger twitched as he waited for a target to emerge. Without warning, the door to the building flew open and a man walked out carrying a large box. Immediately, a pair of angel wings was in the middle of the crosshairs of Rick's gun. Rick sighed and lowered his weapon, sensing his companions doing the same.

Daryl squinted at Rick and shifted the box in his arms. "The hell were y'all doin' at the gate? Playin' shadow puppets? Ain't anyone else here," he huffed and walked in the opposite direction.

Rick caught up to Daryl and the others followed a few paces behind. Michonne's eyes never stopped scanning the buildings but her body was more at ease. Daryl wasn't stupid and if he said the town was clear, then it was clear. They came around the side of the building and Rick saw the silver truck parked with a trailer hooked up behind it. Both were completely pack with odds and ends from the town. Daryl set the box down inside the bed of the truck; Rick peered over the side and saw it covered with what appeared to be everything from the Governor's personal garden.

"Tomatoes, beans, potatoes, some fruit…" said Daryl without being prompted. "Bunch of mixed seeds from one of the storerooms. Ought to make Hershel happy."

Rick was stunned. "We were just going to come for that today. You read my mind."

"You could have waited for us," said Michonne crossing her arms.

Daryl moved around to the far side of the trailer and worked on securing a potted tree with a rope. He tossed the other end across the trailer to Rick for him to tie off. "Hell, I figured y'all be too busy making sure Woodburry had a good breakfast. Had to get over here before Philip came back for any of it. He's got too much good stuff for him to just forget it."

"Good stuff?" repeated Glenn and there was the clinking of glass as he drew a bottle of whiskey from the backseat of the truck. Rick cringed as he remembered it being the same one the Governor had offered him a drink from during their meeting. He decided to keep that information to himself. Daryl would definitely lose it if he knew he'd shared a drink with Philip instead of killing him.

"You sure got all this packed up in a hurry," said Rick as he inspected the truck and trailer. He couldn't help but notice the dents in the hood of the truck from where Daryl had mowed down the walkers. Blood and other matter were sprayed up over the window giving off a rank smell when combined with the heat from the engine.

"Ain't hard to do when ya don't got anyone slowin' ya down…gettin' in the way…" he puffed and secured a second tree. When he was finished, he opened a door to the cab and took a swig out of a water bottle. Rick licked his lips and Daryl offered the other man the bottle.

"Thanks," said the sheriff meekly. "Didn't get much time to prepare to make a run."

"I can tell. Hell Maggie doesn't even look like she's awake yet."

"Oh I'm awake alright," said the young woman. "Someone gave us a pretty good scare this morning…"

"Who?" asked Daryl taking the bottle back from Rick. "Philip?"

"No, your crazy ass!" cried Glenn. "We heard you left and then had to follow your trail of walkers here!"

Daryl frowned and leaned his tired body against the truck. He was going on about thirty hours of no sleep and having the Korean kid yell at him wasn't helping his mounting headache.

"You can't just take off like that Daryl," attempted Maggie in a more gentle tone. "You're part of this group and we've got to take care of each other."

"I ain't a kid!" snapped Daryl. "Didn't think I had to tell ya every time I went someplace."

"But you really should," added Michonne in an infuriatingly calm voice that dug into Daryl.

The hunter pushed off the truck with his palms, advancing on Michonne. The woman started to draw her katana from its sheath and Rick sprung into action. Within two steps, he grabbed the back of Daryl's neck with his left hand and with the other he pinned Daryl's right arm up against his back. "_Get…off…me…_" growled Daryl and struggled to free himself but the sheriff's hold was firm. Rick didn't let up and forced a twisting Daryl towards the building. Daryl threw his head back once in a feeble attempt at hitting Rick but the other saw the move coming and avoided it with ease. The whole situation quickly reminded Rick of his first encounter with the redneck back in the quarry. Daryl had been less than pleased to hear of how Rick had handcuffed Merle to a roof and left him and had lashed out in quite the same manner.

"_Daryl…Daryl…"_ Rick said near his prisoner's ear. "Just calm down for a minute."

"I was calm, 'fore y'all showed up," Daryl said at once.

Rick sighed and released Daryl but kept himself between him and the others back at the truck. The hunter straightened and adjusted the vest that had started to slide of his shoulder. Rick winced as he took in Daryl. The man's perpetual dark circles were deeper and his eyes were bloodshot; lids drooping heavily. He wasn't caked in his usual ten layers of sweat, walker blood, and dirt so it was easy to tell his face was paler and more haggard than normal. Even his hair was in a greater state of disarray.

"Look Daryl," said Rick firmly, "we gotta know where you go. It's not that we don't trust you or anything like that."

"Then what is it?" Daryl questioned, meeting Rick's steely eyes.

"We've got the Governor around here and—"

"He ain't around here. Nothin' left for him."

Rick almost laughed.

"Now who's not being 'observant'?" Daryl's brows knotted together and he shifted his weight nervously before Rick continued. "Those walkers you ran over…one of them was recently turned….shot in the chest; weapons were all gone. I don't think I need to tell you whose calling card that has become." Daryl lowered his gaze to the ground while he chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Until we are sure the Governor is either dead or left the area for good, I gotta ask you to not go running off alone. If something happens to me, you gotta take care of the group."

Daryl sniffed. "Ain't nothin' gonna happen to ya."

"Ten million walkers in this state and you say nothing is gonna happen…" chuckled Rick.

"Then we gotta take 'em down one atta time…got this one," Daryl drew his knife and rushed by Rick. Stunned, the sheriff spun to find a walker advancing on the others from the far side of the street. Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne were too consumed with rifling through a bag of ammo to notice the threat. The walker snarled just before Daryl drove his knife into the center of its head. Daryl lowered it halfway to the ground and yanked his knife free, dark blood oozing out from between its eyes.

Rick and the others sprinted over. "Where did it come from?" asked Maggie.

"Probably just came in the gate after us," Glenn checked over his shoulder, "we left it wide open."

"No that ain't it," said Daryl returning to the truck to retrieve his crossbow. "You said Philip was still out _there_? Well I think he's in _here_."

All five hunched down next to the truck. "How do you know?" asked Glenn. In his head, Daryl praised the young man for the way he positioned himself to put Maggie between him and the truck, effectively shielding her from two sides.

"I'm the observant one, remember…." Daryl pointed towards the walker he just dispatched. "There weren't any when I got here and it came from the wrong way for it to come from the gate."

"They could have found another way in…" hoped Glenn.

"We need to go—_now_," hissed Rick.

"What for? Five of us against what, three? Doubt the Governor found another army overnight," reasoned Daryl.

"Not up for discussion," said Rick. "Michonne I want you to…"

The sound of a bullet zipping by the truck stilled everyone. It embedded itself in the concrete ten feet in front of Glenn.

"_They're behind us,"_ he rattled. Another shot danced off the pavement near the first.

"There's not enough room in the truck for all y'all," supplied Daryl. "Someone's got to make a run for the car."

"Maggie, you stay with Daryl and help lay down cover fire. Daryl, you'll take Glenn's gun. Glenn, Michonne, and I will make a run for the car. Once we get to it, I'll honk then you two get the hell out of here," Rick explained in a single breath.

Glenn and Maggie embraced quickly before they'd be forced to separate. "I love you," she whispered and kissed him swiftly.

"Gotta get goin'," ordered Daryl. He started to raise his head then covered it with his hand as another shot broke through the truck's window sending shards of glass raining down on his neck. "_Shit, shit_," he scowled as he brushed off what pieces he could. Some nicked his fingertips but he ignored the cuts as Glenn passed his weapon to him.

"Move!" shouted Rick and he took off. Michonne and Glenn were up instantly and bullets nipped at their heels. Daryl and Maggie used the truck to shield them from the incoming fire as they aimed down the main street of Woodburry. Daryl was just able to make out two men shooting at them from the cover of a clump of trees.

"Trees," he said to Maggie so she'd know where to concentrate her fire.

"Is it him?"

Daryl ducked to avoid another shot going by his head.

"Naw…henchmen: Mexican and a black guy." Daryl righted himself and fired over the hood. Bark flew up where his shots hit one of the trees meaning the man behind it was still safe. "_Come on out ya asshole,_" he taunted under his breath.


	4. Race Home

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/follows so far! Hope you like the next chapter!

* * *

Daryl's heart pounded against his ribs. It took a lot these days to get him worried.

The Governor's henchmen sent a constant barrage of fire over his and Maggie's heads. He could feel the air around him being split by the bullets. Something wasn't adding up right though. Daryl was certain that there were only two shooters by the trees, unless another was being a total pussy and refused to leave cover to take a shot. _Martinez and Shumpert, Sumbert, Sherbert_—Daryl didn't care what their names were; just that it was only them. Where was their leader? Wouldn't it be something if they manned up and killed him? Naw, they didn't have the balls for it. Even Carol was braver than that. She had told Andrea to stab the Governor in his sleep.

A moment later, Daryl noticed a lull in the gunfire as the men were forced to reload. Daryl was going to take the opportunity to rain hell down upon them but out of his peripheral vision he caught sight of another walker coming in on his right. It was still a good thirty yards away and he dismissed it from being an imminent threat. Daryl aimed towards the men but the walker moved unpredictably, perhaps raising something in his arms.

"_Biters don't…_" thought Daryl and his eyes darted to the walker that was not a walker at all. The Governor's revenge filled eye landed on Daryl, his lips curled up in a twisted smile. Daryl saw the muzzle flash as the Governor fired his gun and then a scream filled his ears. He heard the clatter of Maggie's gun falling to the ground next to him and then her anguished cries as she collapsed to her knees.

Daryl didn't think: He reacted.

The Governor was forced to press himself inside of a coffee shop to avoid Daryl's bullets. Daryl was able to pick him out through one of the front windows and peppered it with lead. The window shattered even more with shots coming from the inside of the shop so he hadn't hit the man, or, not bad enough. Daryl chanced a look down at Maggie: She was clutching her right bicep as blood leaked through her fingers. The fabric of her brown sleeve turned dark. "Yer hit, get in the truck," he commanded. Maggie struggled to her feet, her bloody hand sliding on the door handle. She got the passenger door open when there was the blaring honk that she and Daryl had been waiting for: Rick and the others had made it safely to their car. "Keep down!" shouted Daryl. He fired a few more shots after the Governor and another burst down the street at the other two assailants then dashed around the front of the truck to take the driver's seat. He threw himself inside, ignoring a searing pain in the back of his leg as he sat down.

He turned the key, hoping the engine hadn't taken any serious hits, and the truck started right up. Daryl hit the gas and the truck lurched sluggishly from the added weight of the trailer. Precious seconds slipped by but the truck began to pick up speed. Rick was waiting in the Hyundai outside of the gates and gunned it when he saw Daryl clear them.

"Where ya hit Maggie?" asked Daryl. He checked the mirrors looking for any followers. "_Maggie_?"

"Just…just my arm…" she trembled. "I don't think it's too bad." Daryl took his eyes off the road to give her a quick once over. "Hurts," she admitted. "I wish they wouldn't drive so fast."

Ahead of them, Rick must have forgotten the fact that Daryl couldn't drive as fast with the trailer and loss of maneuverability.

They put a couple of miles between them and the town without as much as a word passed. Daryl obsessively checked the mirrors for the Governor's truck. They weren't going to be allowed to drive off with the last of his possessions—Daryl just knew it.

"Think ya can still shoot if ya have to? It's takin' both hands to control this thing," said Daryl. "Governor'll be on our tails soon."

"Yes, yes I think so," she said forcing a small sob down. Maggie reloaded her gun with a fresh clip then did the same with Daryl's.

"Look Maggie," said Daryl quickly, "they're going to be aiming at me since I'm driving. If I get hit and can't keep going, ya gotta get out and make a run for it. Ya can't waste time tryin'…" he paused to gather his words, "…tryin' to do _anything_ to help me. Got that?"

Daryl kept his head straight but his blue eyes slipped to the side to meet with Maggie's.

"Ya gotta stay off the road and get back to the prison," he instructed. Maggie bit her lip and nodded miserably. "_Shit_…" swore Daryl.

They'd lost Rick. Daryl knew the route to the prison but damn he had liked it if they could've stayed together. Adrenaline pushed through his veins as different scenarios played out in his head. The Governor was coming after them; that was unavoidable. Daryl realized he already had a huge target painted on him in his brother's blood after Merle's ambush. If the Governor caught up to him, he was dead. He had to keep Maggie safe. He almost wished it was anyone with him other than her too. Daryl always viewed Maggie as one of the biggest pieces to the prison and if something happened to her, the rest would crumble. Beth would become unhinged once again and be utterly useless. Hershel could actually die of a broken heart and he was their medic. Glenn would go nothing short of bonkers and somehow reason the whole thing was Rick's fault, kill him then go after the Governor.

So he had to keep Maggie safe. Make sure she survived. Daryl played with the idea of taking a side road and dropping her off then leading the Governor away. But she'd been shot and that changed the game.

"_Had to get yerself shot_," he grumbled.

"I think he was aiming at _you_," she teased back. "Kinda hard for him to be accurate with one eye."

Maggie swore Daryl's lips twitched into the faintest of smiles before he checked the review mirror. She didn't need to know what he saw but the fact that the engine revved spoke volumes.

* * *

"_Rick! Rick!"_

Was someone talking to him?

"_We've lost them; we've got to slow down_!" cried Glenn. "_We've got to go back!_"

Rick sat stone-like behind the wheel oblivious to the constant shouts from Glenn.

"_Rick, that's Maggie and Daryl behind us!_"

"_Rick?_" that voice was from a female…

"_You've got to stop!_" the kid again…

Someone started to shake Rick's seat, or maybe they weren't. He couldn't be certain of anything. His eyes were focused on the road and burned from not blinking but he ignored that too.

"_We have…we have…to…_" the kid's voice was becoming more distant…

A sharp crack echoed around the car and Rick's head snapped to the side. His eyes were thrown shut, breaking his concentration from the road. He tentatively reached a shaking hand up to feel the side of his throbbing face.

Glenn's mouth opened but no words came out. "Where the hell did you go?" spat Michonne, readying her hand for another slap if her first one didn't get the message across.

"I…I…I don't know…" confessed Rick.

"Slow down," ordered Michonne. "We've got to give them a chance to catch up."

Rick's right foot found the brake and applied a generous amount of pressure. The car began to slow and he pulled onto the shoulder.

"I, I think I see them!" called Glenn. He had turned around just in time to see the silver truck come over the crest of a hill a quarter mile behind them.

Michonne rolled her window down and stuck her head out. "No Governor," she announced and pulled back in.

Rick started to drive again, though noticeably slower. Glenn watched out the back as Daryl eased the truck right up to the bumper of the car. Maggie raised her hand…a bloody hand. "They've been shot!" he howled.

"What?" asked both Michonne and Rick.

"Maggie's got blood on her hand!"

"If Daryl's able to drive and Maggie is upright then they're fine," said Michonne calmly. "Get your gun ready in case we get attacked again."

The car ride was not an easy one. The tension was so thick Michonne wouldn't even be able to cut it with her sword. Glenn and Maggie were zoned in on each other the entire time. Eventually he was able to work out that she'd been shot in her arm but it wasn't too bad. He saw that Daryl would keep glancing back but made no indication that there was danger following them. Finally, he felt the Hyundai slow.

"_We're back_," he sighed and turned to see them nearing their beautiful prison, their fortress.

Up ahead, Carol was manning the gate with Sasha and Tyreese. She shouldered her gun and began to push open the gate with Tyreese to let Rick and Daryl in. Rick kept driving up to the cell blocks but Daryl held back as Carol secured the gates. He motioned out the window for them to climb onto the trailer and then continued on.

Rick, Michonne, and Glenn unloaded from their car like it was on fire. Others from the prison, Beth, Hershel, Carl, and Karen came stumbling out. Daryl had to slam on the brakes to keep from running over Glenn as he rushed to greet Maggie. The kid pressed his own hand over Maggie's wound and escorted her to Hershel.

"I don't even know where to begin asking what happened," came Carol's concerned voice. She did a lap around the truck noticing all the bullet holes. Daryl waited for her to be on the opposite side before he slid out. He lowered his right foot to the ground then cautiously tested his left. As soon as his left leg was forced to bear weight, that searing pain started up again on the back of his thigh. He could feel the way his pants clung to his skin and when he pressed his fingers against the spot, they came away with blood. Daryl did a stutter-step to the front of the truck and leaned against it to hide his injury. He didn't need anyone fussing over him when Maggie was hurt too.

"Rick, what in the hell is going on?" asked Hershel. "You charge off, not a word about where you were headed, and my daughter comes back shot…though not badly," he said after examining Maggie's arm.

"My fault," said Daryl, owning up to the incident. "Went off to Woodbury to get a few things. They came after me and we ran into some trouble with the Governor." There was a sharp gasp from the group.

Carl's eyes lit up. "Did you get him?" He stepped forward and looked eagerly between his dad and Daryl.

"Might've," said Daryl vaguely.

"Did you kill him?" the boy questioned the adults. "Did you finish him?"

"Shot at him a bunch; might've hit him…Followed me and Maggie in the truck but he blew out a tire."

"So he's still out there," said Carl sharply. "We're never going to be safe until he is dead! Why can't any of you understand that?"

"_This ain't happening_," thought Daryl and rubbed his forehead. He couldn't help but sag into the truck as the rush from the day wore off. "_Damn kid is right_."

"Carl…we tried to Carl," Rick knelt to his son's level but the boy backed up. "We weren't prepared for a fight…"

"Well get prepared for one! Let's put the traps and barricades back out! Double up on guard duty: Have someone watching both the front and back of the prison."

Rick studied his son and nodded with everything he was saying.

"That's a good idea Carl."

The boy rounded on the group. "So why are we just standing around and talking about it?"

"_EVERYONE GET DOWN!_" cried Beth.

The group dropped to their hands and knees; even Hershel made an effort to crouch behind the cars at Beth's warning.

Rick peeked out from around the Hyundai and down towards the gate. He could just make out a large white truck waiting on the other side. "_Governor_," he whispered to the others. Keeping low, Daryl opened the truck door and yanked out a pair of binoculars. He passed them off to Rick. The sheriff raised them and had to take a few infuriating seconds to get them in focus (damn Daryl even had better vision than him). Rick lowered the binoculars and rubbed his eyes and looked again.

The Governor was…_sitting_ in his truck. Just sitting there. Watching the prison….watching Rick and his group. Rick was sure his one eye was on him. His face was the hardest he'd seen on any man. Cold and calculating. Calculating his chances on being able to take the prison.

Tyreese cautiously approached Rick and patted his shoulder. Rick handed him the binoculars. After a moment Tyreese lowered them and frowned. "Not a chance he can take this place with just the three of them," he worked out. "He's crazy but he's not stupid."

"Well are you going to invite him in or are you going to shoot him?" demanded Carol. "Carl's right and this is our chance."

Rick raised the binoculars for a third time. He panned to the other men with the Governor: Both were in the bed of the truck with their guns trained on the group. "No one move, not one inch," he breathed.

"NO!" yelled Carl. "Kill him...kill him or I will!" Carl made a move to grab for Sasha's gun. A bullet whizzed by and hit the ground between the two. Carl covered his head and froze.

"_Don't….move…_" Rick panted. "The second he thinks any of us are acting hostile, he'll shoot."

"We just need one shot," said Karen.

"Won't do any good," sighed Rick. "Even if we hit the Governor, it'll mean losing two of you. I'm not going to take that risk. Just _wait_."

As if on cue, the Governor broke his gaze from the prison and appeared to say something to his men. A moment later, they were opening the doors to the truck and climbed inside. The Governor smiled, the man _smiled_, at Rick and drove away.

"He's gone," said the sheriff.

"What was he doing?" asked Glenn.

"Trying to figure out if it's worth it to him…the prison…Michonne….and it's not."

"So we need to go after him!" roared Carl. He looked between Rick, Tyreese, and Daryl—the men he thought were supposed to be looking out for the group. "You're just letting him leave?" No response. No one even flinched. "This is bullshit! He tortured Maggie and Glenn and he gets to walk away—_again?_" Carl glanced between the three men trying to pick out the weaker one, the one he could unnerve. "He killed your brother Daryl, he made him suffer and then killed him. You said nobody but Merle could kill Merle and he took that away. Did you like having to put your own brother down? How did that feel? You never cared about Merle or you'd want the Governor dead!"

Daryl felt like he'd been stabbed in the stomach with an ice pick while someone poured boiling liquid over his skin. For a moment he couldn't hear anything over the roaring in his ears and his vision shifted out of focus. A man, presumably Rick, was yelling something but it was muffled and faraway. Maybe it was Carl yelling. Or both. Hell, he didn't have a clue.

A hand came to rest on his shoulder and he instinctively threw it off. His limit reached, Daryl retreated to his crossbow. His boots beat quickly against the pavement as he stormed into the cell block.

He heard a man call his name and a woman say something about blood or bleeding but it missed him.


	5. Drugged

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/follows so far! Enjoy!

* * *

Daryl's hand reached numbly for the door to the prison. The yelling was still going on over his shoulder, not that it mattered any.

Carl could throw a pretty good cheap shot when he wanted to. He wondered why Hershel had worked so hard to save the kid back on the farm when he was just going to turn out to be an ungrateful piece of shit. They'd all made sacrifices for one another and this was how he was getting repaid? After Atlanta, he'd practically given the group a free pass and swore he wouldn't hold it against them that they stopped their search for Merle. Daryl never had to come back to the prison when he and Merle escaped from Woodbury. He and his brother could've made it just fine on their own. In fact, Daryl was certain they would _both_ still be alive if that was the case.

He slunk into C Block feeling like he was dragging around the weight of his dead brother. Merle's death was on his hands. He had more than one opportunity to kill the Governor and failed to take it. Maybe he should have 'opted out' back at the CDC. Couldn't save Sophia….couldn't save Merle….he just wasn't good for much reasoned Daryl.

The hunter couldn't get very far inside the prison before a hand wove around his upper arm. Daryl's head snapped up as he registered someone clinging to him. He was met with a concerned look from one of the elderly men they'd adopted from Woodbury.

"Is everything alright out there?" asked the man.

"Just fine," said Daryl freeing himself from the man.

"What was all the yelling for?"

"Nothin' for ya to worry 'bout," Daryl lied through his teeth.

"Were you the one they said had gone missing?"

Daryl would've rolled his eyes except that action might aggravate his headache even more.

"Like I said, nothin' for ya to worry 'bout," Daryl answered with a harsh undertone sneaking into his voice.

Daryl went to walk on but the man stepped in his way. "I think I deserve some fair answers when I ask you something. We are all part of this group."

"Ya ain't part of this group," said Daryl harshly.

The man crossed his arms and leaned farther into what Daryl considered his personal space. "Oh I think everyone would say differently. If you ask me, I'd say _you're_ the one not acting like part of this group."

"Good thing I didn't ask ya then," Daryl threw back, "and get the hell outta my way." He pushed by the old man, his pace quickening to avoid another confrontation. "Can't get five minutes to myself!" he yelled to no one in particular.

Daryl's heavy boots and deep breaths echoed off the walls as he made his way to the generator room—the last place he'd been with Merle. He really did just want his brother back.

A sudden wave of nausea hit Daryl, doubling him over. His stomached clenched into a thousand knots. He felt like he was about to hurl and decided to just get it up, that was if he could. He dry heaved violently; each muscle spasm rocked his fatigued body. He braced himself against a wall as he coughed and couldn't get enough air. His stomach wouldn't unravel but there was nothing in it. Just a few sips of water in the morning and nothing solid since well, he couldn't remember the last time he ate.

Finally he felt a burning glob of stomach acid rise up and spit it out on the floor.

"_Shit_," he sighed and pressed his head against the cool wall. His headache had crossed the threshold into migraine territory and he wasn't going to waste what precious painkillers on him. "_Just ignore it_," he thought. "_Ignore it and maybe it'll go away_."

* * *

Carol was done listening to Rick bicker with Carl. These days those two wouldn't be able to agree on the color of the sky. Carl would say it was blue while Rick would throw out a fancy word like cerulean. How Rick expected to get the people from Woodbury to view him as a leader when he couldn't even control his own son was a mystery. If anyone had asked her she'd said they were both being incredibly selfish. They needed to secure the prison and work on getting some crops going. Then they could argue over sky color.

And had she been the only one that saw Daryl had been wounded? He hid that he was hurting well but nothing could hide the blood that ran down his leg. He'd been shot and hadn't said a word about it.

Carol scurried back inside and retrieved one of Hershel's bags of medical supplies. She'd been taught enough that she should be able to take care of a simple bullet wound. The vet would probably be too busy tending to his own daughter too.

Carol approached Daryl's cell with caution. She smiled bravely and walked in.

Empty.

Oh she was going to give it to Carl and Rick.

"That kid's got a pretty sharp tongue," said an elderly gentleman behind Carol.

"Who, Carl or Daryl?" she asked baffled. Daryl was hardly a child, though he acted like it on occasion, but it also wasn't like him to mouth off to an elder.

"Daryl the hick with the crossbow?" Carol nodded. "Yeah, he blew through here and headed out down the hall." The man pointed towards the door at the end of the row of cells.

Carol smiled gently at the man and pressed a warm hand against his shoulder as she exited Daryl's cell. She practically jogged the rest of the way to the generator room. She slipped through the doorway and stopped. Daryl was leaning against the far wall with his back to her. His head hung low and his hair had swept over his eyes. The toe of his left boot barely touched the ground to keep from putting too much weight on his injured leg. Carol sighed inwardly and moved silently forward.

"_Sorry Merle, 's my fault.…_" he mumbled.

Daryl just about jumped out of his skin when he felt someone place a soft hand on his lower back. He spun and grabbed the intruder's wrist in a vice like grip.

Carol gave a Daryl small smile. "It's not your fault," she whispered and closed her other hand over his. She felt his fingers loosen their hold. "None of that was your fault Daryl."

"Shouldn't a gone off on my own today," he said bleakly and released her. "Coulda gotten all us killed," his blue eyes flashed at her then found a spot on the ground.

Those pained blue eyes. Daryl was only a shadow of the man he usually was. His shoulders drooped like he was carrying a tremendous weight. His crossbow hung limply by his side. He was slipping.

"You need to get some sleep…it's been a rough couple of days…for everyone."

"Feel fine," said Daryl. He shifted his weight off his left leg for a moment—damn that part of him didn't feel fine at all.

Carol caught the small movement and her eyes were drawn to Daryl's leg. The room's lighting wasn't good but she could still make out the dark stain on his pants. "You're bleeding," she stated firmly.

"Feel fine," he repeated.

"Alright, but you _are_ going to let me take a look at that—"

The hunter shook his head. "Nothin' to it. I'll get Hershel to look at it."

"He's busy with Maggie."

"It's—"

Carol had enough. "Just stop it! Stop hurting yourself!" her voiced echoed around them. "You're no good to us half alive. If it really is fine then I'll take five seconds to look at it and then leave you alone if that's what you want."

Daryl frowned and chewed on his lip. "That's what I want."

"Fine, then turn back around," ordered the woman.

Daryl twitched nervously then did as he was told. He put his hands back on the wall and let his head fall against it. He figured this took less energy than arguing with the woman any farther.

Carol knelt behind Daryl and examined the injury. There was a small tear in his pants half way up the back of his thigh. She pressed her fingers down on either side of the hole causing Daryl to flinch.

"Well it doesn't look like you've been shot…"

"Cause I wasn't. Piece of glass—sat on it."

Carol was relieved. She didn't really want to deal with removing a bullet.

From her bag she pulled out a clean rag and a bottle of water. She dampened the cloth and pressed it against the cut. Daryl drew his leg away from her hand. "_Hurts_," he gritted out.

"Of course it hurts, you've still got the piece of glass in you!" Carol shook her head and reached for a pair of tweezers. Her left hand moved to the front of Daryl's thigh to hold it steady. She could feel his muscles tighten through the rough fabric.

Daryl squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a sharp breath. Carol realized he was preparing himself for the pain and took the shard of glass with the tweezers. She was able to get it free with three quick tugs and let the bloody piece fall to the floor. More blood seeped from the opening and Daryl instinctively reached around to feel the wound but Carol batted his hand away. "Not finished," she said and dabbed the wet cloth against it. Daryl hissed but remained still. "It really could use a stitch or two," she mused. "That piece was almost an inch long."

The man shook his head and took the cloth from Carol. He wrapped it tightly around his leg then straightened up. "Daryl that won't do at all," she chided. "Don't make me tell Rick."

"Tell me what?"

Carol smiled like a kid on Christmas morning as Rick walked in.

"I just pulled a shard of glass out of his," she pointed at Daryl, "leg and he says he doesn't need stitches. But he does."

Rick eyed Daryl's leg and the bloody cloth tied around it.

"Look, we don't have time for this bullshit," said Daryl. "Ya heard what Carl said; we should be outside settin' traps to keep Philip out."

Carol clenched her fists ready to hit those idiots.

"He's—" she started to plead.

Rick placed a hand on her arm. "I need him, Carol…."

"Fine," she snapped while gathering her bag. "That's just fine. I'm going to go see how Maggie is. I'm sure she's just fine too."

"Women…" laughed Rick when she was gone. Daryl must've missed the humor in the situation because his face remained stern.

"What do ya need?"

"Do you think you can go around the perimeter of the fence and set some snares and other traps?" Rick asked returning to business. "Mainly in the back. That area is harder to patrol and keep an eye on. If the Governor is going to try an attack, it'd probably be back there. It might slow him down a little."

"Sure thing," said the hunter. He picked up his crossbow and struggled to keep a limp out of his step.

* * *

Night crept in. Everyone worked all day and into the early evening setting bobby traps around the prison and fence. Rick and Carl kept to separate regions and each had a small group they oversaw. With her injury, Maggie volunteered to stay in and tend to Judith then prepare dinner so Carol could help outside. Carol was thankful for the time outdoors. It made her feel like she was really contributing to the group rather than just changing diapers. She was also thankful for the opportunity it gave her to monitor Daryl. She'd see him from time to time as he'd set his snares. Rick didn't assign anyone to help him so he was out there by himself. No one he could fall back on if he got overrun by walkers.

"He's fine," said Beth on Carol's right. "You don't need to worry about him."

"But how can I not? Just look at him…"

Something tripped Daryl up and he stumbled. He was able to catch himself but it wasn't like him to miss a step.

The women stopped their work for a moment to watch Daryl head towards a walker. He bent over to draw his crossbow. His arms flexed as he fought to pull against the tension in the string but something was off with the motion. Again, Daryl struggled to draw the string but couldn't get it to catch.

"See, he doesn't even have the energy to load his crossbow!" cried Carol. Daryl left his bow on the ground and pulled his knife. He waited for the walker to get within an arm's length then struck out at it. It fell to the ground and the man shook his head.

"He'll be better after a good rest tonight," assured Beth. "C'mon let's go: Maggie's waving us in."

Dinner was served without much fanfare, and as Carol was all too aware, without Daryl.

Rick dotted the silence with a few small praises for the work everyone had done. He assigned double guard duty to have someone on watch at both ends of the prison. He along with Tyreese, Sasha, Glenn, and Beth would alternate shifts at the front of the prison while Michonne, Daryl, Carol, Karen, and Carl watched the back.

Carol had an interesting thought when who took what watch was decided. Daryl was before her so if she could just convince Michonne to not wake him and get her up instead…..

Carol looked to Michonne who was seated at a different table. She was a sensible woman. She was good at reading people and she had to see how pathetic Daryl was.

Michonne abruptly put her fork down and meet Carol's eye. Carol motioned with a flick of her head and stood from the table. Michonne's eyebrows raised but she followed after Carol. "Something wrong?" she asked when they were away from the group.

"Michonne, I need your help with something," began Carol, "it's about Daryl." The other woman didn't say anything so Carol took it as a sign she was interested. "He hasn't been taking very good care of himself the last couple of days and I don't think he's even slept since Merle died. So I was wondering if you would let him sleep tonight and allow me take his shift on watch instead."

"You know that won't work, right? I agree with you, but it won't work," said Michonne gravely. "He's too light a sleeper. Every time anyone walks by his cell, he wakes up. I've even seen him follow someone like you or Beth to make sure they get back to their cell ok. Your cell is near his: He'll wake up."

"_Please Michonne_," begged Carol.

Michonne gave Carol a twisted little smile. "You gonna tie him to the bed?"

"No….no, not that. Just don't wake him up and get me instead. Ok?"

Michonne shrugged but didn't deny Carol her request.

Carol left Michonne and headed straight for Hershel's medical supplies. She checked over her shoulder before going through one of the bags. They were always picking up whatever medicines they could find. There had to be something to…..there was. Carol quickly undid the top to a small bottle and shook several pills into her hand. Daryl was a strong guy. He could take three or four….three and a half to be on the safe side. Carol snapped the fourth pill in half and closed the container. She set the pills down on a table and quickly crushed them with her knife. Looking around she found a water bottle, opened it, and brushed the chalky remains inside. She shook it swiftly and the white powder vanished. The bottom of the bottle was a little cloudy but hopefully he was tired enough that he'd just attribute it to less than perfect water.

Carol returned to the cafeteria area just in time to see Daryl sitting down by Rick and discussing guard duty. He didn't have a plate yet so she rushed to make him one. She set both the plate and water bottle before him and stood back. Her heart raced as he took a few tentative bites of the venison and then he opened the bottle. He brought it to his mouth, drank, paused, and then took another drink. She was ready to cry with relief when he set the empty bottle down.

Carol hung around to help Maggie clean up. Rick and Daryl were still talking and she'd glance over to see if her scheme was working. "_Maybe I should have done four pills_," she thought. But then she noticed how Daryl wasn't really looking at Rick anymore but someplace off behind him. His eyes slid shut then snapped open. And yawned. Daryl Dixon _never_ yawned.

"I think we should call it a night," chimed Carol. "I'll see you in the morning Rick. Hope you feel better Maggie," she said and gave the girl a gentle hug.

Carol dashed to her cell and into bed. Heart pounding, she waited. Daryl eventually wrapped up his conversation with Rick and his heavy footfalls approaching let Carol know he'd returned to his cell. A moment later she heard his bed creak.

* * *

"_Carol….Carol…._" a voice whispered in Carol's ear. "_Your turn on watch._" Carol sat up in bed with Michonne standing over her.

"Did he wake up?" breathed Carol.

"I don't know what you did but he's out. Even tapped on one of the bars but he's asleep."

"Thank you so much," said Carol.

"None of my business," said Michonne. "It's cold out, take a coat with you." Carol fumbled to find a jacket and when she was done, Michonne was gone.

The cell block was bathed in silver light from a full moon so Carol had no problem distinguishing Daryl's sleeping form as she looked in on him. He was on his back; one hand tucked behind his head and the other hung off the bed. His fingertips just barely ghosted along his crossbow.

"_Oh Daryl…_" she sighed and stepped inside his cell. She hadn't overdone it with the sleeping pills because she could see the steady rise and fall of his chest.

She stepped closer.

At this distance she could make out his face more clearly. His features were set but not strained like during the day. There were dark patches of either dirt or walker blood that wouldn't come off until the next time it rained. She figured if there was to be a picture of the word 'exhausted' it'd be of him.

Carol moved closer and leaned over. Daryl's breathing didn't change as his arm that was hanging off the bed was lifted and laid across his stomach. His eyes didn't flutter; his mouth didn't twitch.

Carol didn't dare blink. Slowly, like one would move to touch a wild animal, she brought her head to his and pressed a kiss against his lips.

* * *

A/N: I'm not really a big shipper so yeah...Review if you'd like!


	6. An Unexpected Find

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/follows so far!

* * *

Rick vaulted out of bed and landed on the cold prison floor. Something was wrong. Or it felt like something _should_ be wrong.

The first rays of sun were beginning to trickle through the high prison windows. The air around him was crisp and almost fresh smelling. It was so unlike the rotting prison. Everything was peaceful and that was what felt wrong.

Rick knew better than to get too comfortable. They'd learned that with the months they'd spent on the road. How many times did they think they had found a safe house and tried to get settled before being run out in the dark of night by a small herd? Or when they trekked deep into the backwoods thinking it'd be deserted but met up with more of the undead? If you got comfortable then you got lazy. If you got lazy you were dead.

Rick clung to the bars of his cell in thought. What resources did they have? Well the prison was sturdy and offered good protection from the living and dead. They amassed more guns and ammo from Morgan and Woodbury. They'd be set with food if spring would hurry up. The field would provide fruit and vegetables to supplement any game animals. There was a fresh stream nearby so water wasn't an issue. How many able bodies did they have? He, Daryl, Michonne, Maggie, Glenn, Sasha, Tyreese, and Karen had all proved themselves. Carl was a bit of a wildcard: He was fierce but a little too unpredictable. He'd prefer it if Carol and Beth stuck to watching Judith and assisting with prison chores. Hershel had to stay tucked away. He was the only one with any medical training, even if it was for animals. He was too valuable to risk especially after being reduced to using crutches. Then there was Woodbury.

Taking in the survivors seemed like the right (and noble) thing to do forty eight hours ago. But now, what were they good for? Daryl was onto something when he said there wasn't much they could do to help out. Sure the kids could be trained up and be useful—in a few years. That didn't help any in the present. The older folks well….they _were_ dinosaurs. They'd die off, go extinct, and leave nothing but their decaying bones behind.

"_And that's exactly why the Governor abandoned them_," thought Rick. "We're not like that here," he said and walked out of his cell.

A few whispers were carried into the cell block: It seemed like some of the women were awake and scrounging up a breakfast. Rick approached Judith who was asleep in her crib. She wasn't crying yet but that'd all change when the prison started to stir. The end of the world was no place for a baby. Yet here one was. She didn't even have a birthday. If she survived infancy then he'd give her one. She wouldn't have the same shots they'd all received against the most basic diseases. Even a mild cold could turn deadly for her. Or something as simple as an ear infection would have to go untreated and she could be permanently deaf. Like that wouldn't be a setback for the group.

Rick took his little ass kicker in his arms and held her tight to his chest. Oh how he hadn't done that enough. She was a warm little bundle as he pressed her against his heart. She was their hope. The hope that they could beat this and come out strong on the other side. There were still miracles left in this world and she proved that with every breath she took.

Rick brushed Judith's forehead with a brief kiss. He couldn't be quite certain yet, but it looked like she was going to have Lori's eyes and her lips. Rick blinked. He'd seen that nose before.

On Shane.

Rick shook his head: It was just the light, or lack thereof, playing tricks on him. There was no way his daughter would have his former friend's nose. Lori had promised him that. This baby was _his_.

Rick set the baby back down before anymore cradling would wake her and headed to eat.

"Good morning Rick," said a couple of the former Woodbury residents as they ambled in.

"Good morning," Rick smiled in return. "Please have some breakfast."

Maggie set down a tray of grits and deer meat. "It's not much," she said remorsefully.

"I wouldn't mind some diversity," said an old man; the same that had confronted Daryl.

"I'd agree with you there Mr…." began Rick.

"Mason," said the man.

"Mr. Mason," confirmed Rick. "We gotta wait for spring and then we can start planting the field."

"Why wait until spring? It wouldn't be hard to get a greenhouse going. We have plenty of room….enough strong backs. Not necessarily mine but I worked in construction for fifty two years so I know a thing or two."

"Hadn't thought of doing that," said Rick. "If I get you what you need, do you think you could oversee it?"

"Absolutely. I would love to be able to help out. Some of your people have me feeling like I might not be doing my part…."

"That's not true at all….We just haven't had time to get everyone situated yet. You're not a burden at all. We're happy to have you….more than happy," said Rick.

Over breakfast Mr. Mason explained to Rick all the supplies they'd need in order to build a greenhouse. It wasn't much but they'd need things like the plastic roofing and hoses that couldn't be found around the prison. Another run would have to be made.

"You should be safe enough if you take Michonne, and Glenn," provided Hershel.

Rick grimaced. "I'd really like Daryl and Tyreese to come too. We'll have to go into a home improvement type store and those are tricky. They're big and dark….a lot of places for walkers to hide."

So it was decided they'd leave once everyone was up. Michonne worked on refueling the cars they'd take while Rick and Glenn poured over various maps trying to figure out the most likely places to find their supplies. They wanted to make one trip, in and out, and be back before night.

"Well," said Rick. "It looks like we're almost ready. Daryl should be up by now so I just gotta get Tyreese."

Or the consent to use Tyreese.

He hadn't forgotten that he'd placed Tyreese under Carl's command. Neither Sasha, Karen, nor Tyreese had complained about working with Carl and they'd done a surprising amount in such short time. At the rate they were working at, Carl would have the other cell block ready for Woodbury in a week. And then what would he have Carl work on?

Carl and his crew were already at work in D Block. They'd removed all the walker corpses and were scrubbing down the cells to remove the stench of death.

"Carl!" called Rick. "Carl, I need to have a word with you."

Carl popped his head out of a cell to acknowledge his father.

Rick couldn't believe he was about to ask his son for permission to do something. As if the world wasn't backwards enough already.

"I'm going on another run in a few minutes with Michonne, Daryl, and Glenn but I'd also like it if Tyreese would come….that is if you can spare him," said Rick. He saw Carl's eyes narrow and figured he was about to be turned down. "I can send Beth over too. I'll also need you to be in charge around here," he added to sweeten the pot.

"Yeah? How long will you be gone for?" asked Carl.

"Be back before night," answered Rick. "Mr. Mason from Woodbury suggested we build a greenhouse and we need a few things for it."

Carl looked over at Tyreese. "Yeah I guess you can have him. Hey Tyreese!" he called. Rick decided to wait for Carl to explain the situation since he was technically the boss inside the cell block. "My dad is going on a run today and wants you to go with him," said Carl.

"Uh….is….uh…." stuttered Tyreese, clearly unsure of the leadership at the moment. "Yeah uh, ok."

"We'll be back before dark," said Rick one last time to Carl. "Try not to burn the prison down."

Carl sneered. "I was six and it was only one set of curtains." Tyreese snorted. "Ugly anyways," Carl said lowly.

* * *

A pair of piercing blue eyes cracked open. Tired muscles were stretched as Daryl sat up in bed. His ever alert ears picked up the sounds of the prison inhabitants milling about. The cell block was fully lit meaning the day was well on its way.

Damn Carol to hell and back.

That was the last time he'd ever accept any sort of nourishment from her. Sleeping pills in a bottle of water. Creative but a little too obvious.

Daryl knew something was off the second he tasted the water. It wasn't supposed to be chalky or dry his mouth out. And how many pills had she put in it for there to still be residue at the bottom? It felt like the entire bottle the way the need to sleep slammed into his body. But it wasn't like he could just turn the bottle away after taking one sip. There'd be questions and then Rick would want to drink it….

Before Carol had _drugged_ him, Daryl was certain he never wanted to sleep again. He was going to push his body until it gave out or a walker got him. That was it. He needed the pain. His headache was gone and his stomach was lighter. His leg stung but it was mild. His muscles were sore but that was a constant occurrence. Daryl thought he deserved to feel like crap since Merle wasn't around to feel anything anymore. He missed the pain. It gave him something other than his brother to concentrate on. He needed that distraction and now it was gone.

Putting aside as many thoughts about Merle as he could, Daryl tugged on his boots and readied his crossbow for the day. He'd go out and hunt. He'd stay sharp by picking off a couple of squirrels….maybe take out a few walkers….

Daryl ran headfirst into Rick at the entrance to his cell. Both appeared startled by the collision; Daryl had even made a quick grab for his knife.

"I know I look and smell like a walker but you don't have to stab me for it," joked Rick.

"Sorry," muttered Daryl. "Just gonna go hunt. That ok?"

"No," said Rick. Daryl rolled his eyes. "I need you on a run today. We're about to leave."

"I'll take my bike," stated Daryl, clearly not upset with the change of plans. But he sure as shit wasn't going to be trapped in a car with people. He couldn't get five minutes to himself as it was.

"That's fine. Glenn will be with me and Michonne and Tyreese will take the truck."

Outside, Daryl started up _his_ bike, because that was what it was now, and the others got into the cars. Carol came running out at the last possible second with something for him to eat wrapped in a towel. He shoved it into one of the pouches and figured he'd only eat it if he absolutely had to. Like gun-to-his-head, had to.

The cool air stung Daryl's face as he rode. He figured Glenn was giving Rick directions to their destination because every so often the car would make a turn at the last possible second. They passed through a small town, too small to meet their needs. The second looked promising but they did a U-turn due to the presence of walker herd. A third was burned out. Michonne kept them from exploring a fourth because it "didn't feel right." Numbers five and six had too many cars and debris in the road and they didn't want to enter on foot. Lucky number seven had more walkers than town two. It was after noon, and it was town number thirteen that finally merited some attention.

They drove through unhindered. The roads were clear. A few walkers stumbled about but looked too starved to be dangerous. Then they started to notice the piles and piles of burned walker bodies. Someone had cleaned town. The final pile was smoldering. That someone was still here.

Now it was Daryl that said something didn't feel right. Other survivors? Yeah that had always worked out for them.

"Do you see how clean this place is?" asked Tyreese. "Someone big was here. I'd say it was the National Guard."

"Maybe," said Michonne, "but the Governor took out a Guard camp somewhere. It could be what's left over from that."

"He could have come back here," said Glenn. "Ya know if he's familiar with the area and thinks it'd be a good stronghold."

The group huddled around Rick's car as they chewed on their thoughts.

"Daryl?" Rick asked when the silence wore on. "Got an opinion?"

"Yeah, get what we need and get the hell out. We've already wasted too much time," said the hunter.

"Alright," came Rick as he started the car again.

With the realization that they were definitely not the only living things in the town, Daryl's senses kicked into overtime. He took the lead of the small convoy mainly so he'd have an unobstructed view. The others would miss things that he wouldn't. Like the downed sign that once would have pointed to the street of a shopping center. It was their best bet.

Daryl turned down the street and eased up on his bike. There was a shopping center all right but it happened to have a military style camp set up in the parking lot.

Daryl knew both Rick and Tyreese had stopped driving as soon as they saw the camp. "_The hell with them_," thought Daryl. "_Bunch of pussies. Scared of nothin'. The Governor ain't here or we'd been shot already._" He threw every ounce of caution into the wind and rode right up to the camp without the others.

Whoever set up the camp up had meant business. To start with, the metal fence that encompassed the camp was able to rival the one at the prison. Several large green tents had been erected within the fence and were punctuated with gun turrets, generators, and lights. The far side of the camp backed up into one of the shopping buildings so it really only had to be defended from three sides. There were a couple large camo trucks parked nearby that looked like they were being properly maintained. No walkers.

It _was_ a stronghold.

Daryl parked his bike and dismounted by a gate in the fence. He checked behind him and saw the others watching his every move.

"_Pussies_," he cursed under his breath.

Daryl moved towards the gate and found it unlocked.

"_No one here_," he thought for the hundredth time. He pushed the gate open and stepped inside. Daryl wasn't exactly surprised when nothing happened. He checked inside the first tent he came to and found it vacant. It was lined with cots but no one was in them, nor were there any personal belongings. The same could be said for the other three tents. He walked back to the gate and signaled the all clear for Rick.

Knowing the camp was empty, Daryl proceeded to the storefront. He eased the door open and sniffed. It smelled surprisingly fresh. Not a trace of the dead. A walker trapped inside a building was sure to stink it up, but nonetheless, he raised his crossbow.

Daryl entered the store without a problem except by now it really wasn't a store. The whole place had been turned into an army command center. It was a neat find, but it lacked what they were looking for. Daryl lowered his crossbow to maneuver his way around a stack of dark green boxes and then over to a box with a big red cross on it: Medical supplies. Ok, so those were always good to come across. Daryl dropped his crossbow and dug through another box: MREs. Food that would never go bad? Also a useful find. Damn they'd have to come back here again for all this.

Daryl moved farther in and would stop to peek inside a box here and there. He heard Rick or someone open the store's door but couldn't see them. His foot struck a metal object on the floor and he bent over to inspect it. He was barely able to make out the word 'ammo' when he registered movement behind him and then a searing pain that shot up from the base of his skull. He thought his head was going to explode and his world turned sideways as he fell forward. He had the briefest sensation that someone had placed a hand over his mouth and another one was responsible for lowering him to the ground without a sound.

* * *

A/N: So I love reviews because they tell me what I'm doing a good job at or not. Seriously, be brave. I mean come on, I'm giving y'all an update a day! This is hard work! ;)


	7. Kill Bill

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews/favorites/follows y'all are awesome. And I mean that. Seriously.

* * *

"We'll have to come back for some of this," said Tyreese as he Rick, Glenn, and Michonne poked around the abandoned army camp. "Generators….lights….finally some decent bedding. Who knows what's inside the store."

"But why is it so empty?" asked Glenn. He stooped over to pick up a picture of woman holding a small child. After a moment he returned it to the ground figuring anyone attached to the picture was probably dead. "It doesn't look like they got overrun."

"Ran out of food and moved on," guessed Tyreese. "Too hard to farm or hunt in the middle of a town."

"Daryl would die here," mused Glenn.

"We'd all die here," put in Rick darkly. He'd been trying to figure out a use for the place from the moment it'd been spotted. The town's walker population was the lowest they'd seen out of anywhere. The camp was secure, enough, but he wasn't ready to risk relocating the entire prison just yet. This place could work in an emergency though. If the prison fell, they could retreat here and regroup. Rick already put it on his to-do list to have everyone at the prison learn the way to the camp for that purpose.

Rick pointed towards the door with his revolver. "Let's go on inside….see if Daryl's found anything interesting." The four started walking and Rick stepped over a picture of a couple on their wedding day. "Ya know Glenn, I've been meaning to ask you, what do you want to do about your wedding?"

Glenn scratched the back of his head. "Uh well….we haven't talked about it much but I guess we'll do something once it's spring. We can have it outside and maybe Hershel can marry Maggie and I….I was thinking you'd be my best man."

Rick stopped and looked at the kid. "Really? I'd be honored to Glenn."

"It's good to have some things going back to the way they were," said Tyreese. "Don't think you can have much of a honeymoon though."

"I'll give them an uninterrupted night it the guard tower," laughed Rick.

Glenn rolled his eyes and reached to open the store door for the others.

They entered the store single file, weapons at the ready. Tyreese let out a small "whoa" behind Rick as they took in the rows of medical supplies, ammo, food, and tactical gear. Rick was just thinking that they were finally getting lucky when a loud crack made them freeze. After an impossibly long second, there was the sound of shuffling feet along one of the far walls.

"You ok there Daryl?" asked Tyreese.

Another unbearable second ticked by with no response to Tyreese's question.

Michonne started to where the first sound came from but Rick caught the bottom of her shirt and held her back. "Daryl?" he said in a tone that was more begging than a question. Whatever had made that noise, Rick didn't like it. It sounded like it hurt and the fact that there was no cussing associated with it unnerved him. "Daryl," his voice demanded.

Two short whistles answered him.

Daryl had sometimes used whistles to alert them to danger in tight situations, so what kind of trouble was in the store?

Rick motioned for them to advance cautiously. They pressed together and eased their way in the direction of the whistles. Rick kept his eyes up and scanned the store for _any_ movement. He was all too aware of how the breathing of his companions was getting louder, his was too.

Rick took another step forward and his foot snagged on something: Daryl's crossbow. Oh that was not good. Where was the man that was always attached to it?

The sheriff lifted the bow off the ground and studied it. His eyes passed over the weapon in silent disbelief. There was no blood, no signs of a struggle. How could Daryl be disarmed and why would he just leave his bow behind?

Another two quick whistles had the hair on the back of Rick's neck standing straight up. There was an audible click as he pulled the hammer on his gun back. In another motion, he slung Daryl's crossbow over his back: He'd be sure to return it to the hunter after they had this situation resolved. Rick took a few timid steps forward but frowned when the path they were on took a sudden turn to the right. They wouldn't be able to see what was around the corner. Gun raised head high, he angled his body and made a large step to the side.

"_Stop!_"

Rick didn't need to be told to stop nor was he thinking about moving ever again. The command must have been issued to Glenn, Michonne, and Tyreese.

"_Stop_," repeated the man from behind Daryl.

The man was seated on the floor with Daryl pressed into his chest like he was being used as a shield. His head drifted listlessly and was kept up only the slightest amount by the knife biting into his throat. The attacker's knife arm snaked across Daryl's chest pinning him back while the other hand raised a gun and pointed it at Rick.

There was already a thin line of blood seeping from under the blade at Daryl's throat. At least that was something: Dead men don't bleed.

"I'm going to put my gun down….we're not looking for trouble," said Rick as he placed his weapon on the floor. He raised his hands in an offering of peace.

The stranger's gun slid from Rick onto Tyreese.

"_Weapons down_," breathed Rick after he sensed the others hesitating. He never took his eyes off the pair in front of him but he heard the soft thuds as his companions disarmed.

"_Crossbow_," said the man and brought his gun back to Rick. Rick really didn't want to take the crossbow off his back. He was somehow drawing comfort from his friend's weapon and he wasn't ready to part with it. However Rick's second of indecision cost Daryl. The man pressed the knife deeper into Daryl's throat and more blood trickled down his neck.

"_Ok….ok…._"said Rick as he removed the bow and set it at his feet. "We don't want trouble. Let him go and we'll leave."

The man didn't say anything and Rick used the moment to observe him. His skin was dark and a short graying beard clung to his sunken face. He had a thick deep scar on his chin but nothing else stood out. He wore army fatigues and Rick was flooded with the realization that this was the lone survivor of the camp they'd found. Why just _one_ person?

"Why are you here?" the man asked without a quiver of emotion.

"We need supplies. We have a group with women and children we're trying to care for," answered Rick trying to earn the man's sympathies.

"_Why?_"

Hadn't he just told the man why?

"We have a group….women, some elderly, small children….my name is Rick."

"Bill," said the man. Rick doubted this was anywhere near the man's real name. He'd never run into any Bills before. It was so common it was uncommon.

"Ok Bill…" started Rick, "why don't you let our friend go and we'll walk out and you'll never see us again."

"What's he to you?" Bill asked with a slight nod to Daryl.

"_Everything_," thought Rick. He couldn't just sum up all that Daryl had done for the group in a few words.

"He's our friend, an excellent hunter. He helps take care of my daughter…." There, another small play at empathy.

"There's a chest on your left," said Bill. Rick hated to take his eyes of Daryl or the man but looked to where the man had indicated. "Put your weapons in it and lock it. I don't like them dirtying up my floor….My squad spent all night cleaning it and now you come in and just start throwing your things around!" he yelled and jerked his gun at Rick.

_Squad?_ What the hell was he talking about? Were there others and they were just out? The four, five if Daryl came to, would be no match for a larger group.

Michonne passed the weapons to Rick as he grudgingly locked them away. Rick figured this day couldn't get any worse. He was staring down the barrel of a gun. Daryl was unconscious with a knife to his throat. And now they were completely unarmed for the first time since the world went to shit.

"Like I said, my squad worked all night to clean this place. I hope you didn't wake them up when you stormed in here: They're sleeping in the tents outside," said Bill. His gun dropped an inch as he took his eyes off Rick and looked over Daryl.

"_The tents with the rows of empty cots that looked like they hadn't been touched in months? Those tents?_" thought Rick.

"No, oh no. We were very quiet," confirmed Rick. "Your men work hard; they deserve to rest."

Bill appeared to pull Daryl in tighter. Rick was suddenly forced to blink away a drop of sweat that rolled into his eye. He swore his heart couldn't beat any faster as he tried to recall his sheriff training. He just needed to keep calm and figure out what Bill wanted. But it was impossible to keep calm when Daryl was being held hostage by a madman.

"Can we do something for you…can we help you at all?"

"No. Not a damn thing," sighed Bill.

Rick cringed as Glenn spoke up. "Are you going to kill us?" he asked.

Bill's lips curled into a laughing smile. "If I was going to kill you we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"Ok," said Rick, "so if you'll just let Daryl go, we'll leave. You can even keep our weapons." Rick felt Michonne sending daggers his way. He'd have no idea where to start looking for a new katana for her if Bill accepted the offer. "We're all civilized here, we can…."

Rick stopped short when he saw Daryl's hand twitch: He was coming around.

However thankful he was to see his friend stirring, Daryl was not going to take being held at knife point after getting knocked out well. This had to be resolved _now_.

Daryl groaned which made Bill shift nervously behind him. He was still out but maybe for only another minute.

"Ok Rick," said Bill with a sneering smile, "I think I like you so I'm going to help you out here." Surprisingly to all, Bill lowered his gun and tucked it into the waist of his pants. "You see Rick, there's a grey box over behind the Asian kid and you're going to need it in another minute." He hauled Daryl up but the hunter's feet were still dead under him causing Bill to support his weight. The hand that had previously been holding the gun moved into Daryl's hair and yanked his head back. The skin on his neck was pulled tight allowing more blood to ooze from the thin cut. Bill's eyes moved slowly off of Daryl and then met Rick's intense gaze. Rick could do nothing as he watched Bill's knife slice easily through the skin on Daryl's neck.

"_NO!_" shouted the voices from the prison and the four lurched forward. Bill pushed Daryl away from him and ran.

Rick caught Daryl before he hit the ground and quickly found his bloody neck. He pressed his hands harshly over the cut as his friend's life spilled through his fingers and onto the floor.

* * *

A/N: So that was a bit shorter of a chapter. I hope there weren't any "problems" with it. No cliffhangers or anything...


	8. Dont Kill Bill

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

A/N: Dang cliffhangers suck. Whoops. My bad on that last one guys. Thanks again for all the love!

* * *

"_Daryl would die here…_"

"_Today can't get any worse…_"

Rick no longer needed to wonder if his day could get any worse: His day just opened up the gates of Hell.

His voice was still screaming inside his head, but it was dying down much like the yells from Glenn as he chased after Bill. Rick couldn't get the image of Bill's knife out of his head. The man just swiped it across Daryl's neck like it was second nature to him. Daryl's bright red blood flowed unhindered from the cut and down his neck.

Rick had rushed forward as the knife slit his friend's throat and caught Daryl before he was allowed to fall to the ground. He laid Daryl on his back and clamped his hands over the wound to keep what precious blood he could inside Daryl's body. Daryl's breaths became stifled as Rick applied more pressure to his neck and cut off his airway. Rick's hands were quickly stained red but Daryl was still rapidly losing blood. It was then that Daryl's eyes opened.

He wasn't used to having someone so close over him and he tried to turn away from Rick but Rick held on tight. Daryl's breathing became more desperate as he thought Rick was trying to strangle him. He tried to kick the man away but Michonne landed on his legs. Daryl thrashed again forcing Rick to place an elbow in the center of his chest to keep him still. Rick could feel his friend's pulse quicken under his hands as he fought, costing him more blood to be lost with every beat of his heart.

"_Please Daryl….please don't move_…." begged Rick in a whisper, his voice failing him. Rick registered the realization in the eyes under him that Daryl understood something was terribly wrong…with him.

Daryl's shaking hands came up and sought out those covering his neck. He could feel how they were warm and wet. He brought a hand up to his eyes and found it soaked in blood: His blood.

Daryl lashed out again in panic, his breathing quickening into sharp gasps. "Calm down Daryl, you have to calm down," urged Rick. "You're going to be ok. You just have to stay calm; don't move." Rick mentally kicked himself. He really had no idea why he just told Daryl he'd be ok. His throat just been slit and there was no way to stop the bleeding. He was going to die.

Daryl tried to listen to Rick but the numbness from the back of his head had worn off and now he was able to feel the blood leaving his body. It cooled as it left him and soaked into his shirt. He shivered as it wasn't just his shirt getting colder but his body too. His fingertips felt like they were touching an ice cube.

"Tyreese I need your jacket!' shouted Rick. Tyreese removed his outer layer and knelt next to Daryl. Rick lifted his hands for a second as Tyreese pressed the fabric over the bubbling wound.

"This isn't going to work," said Tyreese.

"_Yes it is_," shot Rick. "Come on Daryl, hang in there." For Rick it had to work. There was no way they were going to lose Daryl. He felt sick just thinking about it. "You're going to be fine."

Rick felt Daryl's muscles twitch in an attempt at a nod. He could feel his body relaxing and maybe even his pulse had dropped. Rick met Daryl's eyes and willed the other man to hold the contact.

"_Rick…_" croaked Daryl weakly, his eyelids drooping.

Rick sensed Michonne moving off Daryl's legs and then she was by his side and holding one of his bloody hands. "You're going to fine Daryl. You have to hang on. Remember you still have to kill the Governor," she said as her other hand stroked his hair.

Daryl mumbled something incoherent and then closed his eyes.

"_Shit_," cursed Rick as he shook Daryl. The hunter's eyes opened and fixed on a spot behind Rick.

"RICK!" cried Glenn as he came back to his group.

Tyreese, Michonne, and Rick looked up to see Glenn practically drag a kicking Bill forward. He had a split lip and a rapidly swelling eye while Glenn looked unscathed. Bill's hands were tied behind his back with what appeared to be scraps from Glenn's shirt.

Glenn forced Bill to his knees a few feet from where they were huddled around Daryl. "I caught him outside. Son of a bitch's gun wasn't even loaded. He didn't have to fucking do this," he said with a glance to Daryl's neck. "I figured you'd want to take care of him."

"I will once…." he looked down at Daryl. Once what? Daryl was dead and he'd have his hands free?

Bill caught the look of fear on Rick's face and laughed. "You're killing him," he said as he tried to catch a breath.

If Rick had been in possession of a gun he would've just shot the man twice in the head. Maybe even a third time.

"You did this!" he growled and started to lunge at the man but pulled back when a weak hand clutch at his arm.

"_Stay_," gasped Daryl and Rick had no choice but to comply. He was so helpless with the way the blow to his head and blood loss weakened him. Nothing about Daryl looked strong, like he could hold on much longer.

"Making a mountain out of a mole hill," Bill said cryptically. "It's a miracle you've lasted this long." When his words were not challenged Bill decided to continue. "What did I say you would need?"

Rick looked at Tyreese who then found Michonne's puzzled eyes.

"A grey box?" asked Glenn.

Bill nodded. "Like I said: You're killing your friend. His blood is not on my hands."

"What's in the grey box?" asked Tyreese.

"Ya know," said Bill, "if you'd just go get it, that'd be real helpful. Not to me though…I don't care whether he lives or dies."

Rick made a fist and pressed it against his forehead. "Glenn…get the box," he said under his breath.

Glenn raced to where he'd been standing only a minute before. It took him just a second to find the box Bill was talking about. How could he miss it? It had large red letters spelling out 'Trauma Kit.'

He all but threw the kit down next to Daryl and opened it for Rick. Rick had to choke back a sob when he saw all the medical supplies for treating combat related injuries.

"Now," began Bill, "if you're done being stupid…you can save him."

"I….I…." Rick wasn't sure what to do. He didn't have time to be digging through all this crap.

"Or you can untie my hands and _I_ can save him."

Glenn read the look on Rick's face and his hand swept over the bindings around Bill's wrists. Bill shook the shirt free and moved towards Daryl and the kit. "This is ridiculous," he muttered and pulled out a plastic packet that he promptly ripped open. "Take the jacket off his neck."

Rick removed the cloth from Daryl's throat and then Bill poured the powder from the packet on it. Within a second, the blood stopped flowing out of the cut. "Quick blood clotting agent," said Bill with a sigh. "It wouldn't have been so bad if you'd just put it on there in the first place and none of this nonsense with a jacket." He tossed the empty packet aside then reached back in the kit for a bandage that he secured over the wound. "I only nicked his artery."

"_Only nicked it?_ Why the hell did you cut it in the first place?" yelled Glenn. "What was the point in that?"

Bill ignored Glenn's outburst and instead focused on taking Daryl's pulse. He said something about being unconscious but alive. "He'd do better if he was sitting up," Bill said to Rick. "It'll be good to keep his head elevated."

Tyreese and Michonne helped move Daryl into a sitting position against Rick. The sheriff couldn't help but feel how cool Daryl was and his face was the palest he'd ever seen. Rick frowned. "He'll make it?"

Bill snorted. "Yes. Despite your best efforts to make sure he didn't."

"I don't get it," said Rick while he shifted behind Daryl, "you disarm us, lock our weapons away—after we tell you we're not a threat—and then you still slit his throat. Is that the same picture you're getting?"

"Just because you were disarmed doesn't mean you weren't a threat. That's what I saw you as: A threat," said Bill.

"And you should have," said Michonne.

"Why?" asked Rick. "Why would you do this?"

"Easy: Five of you, one of me. A gun with no bullets, a single knife. Yeah, my odds looked real nice."

"But why would you try to kill him?" asked Glenn.

Bill turned a pair of dark eyes on Glenn. "Listen here boy; I wasn't trying to kill him. I was an army medic; I know how these things work," he said and pointed to Daryl's bandage. "Like I said, I nicked his artery, I didn't bisect it. If you had just gone and opened up the kit when you should have, he'd be awake right now to complain about it."

"But why cut him at all?" asked Tyreese.

Bill pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a heavy breath. "You people show up here heavily armed and come into my camp. One of me, five of you. He came in here first so I knocked him out. After talking with you, Rick, I figured you had a smart head on your shoulders. I knew you valued this man's life more than me and that's all I wanted. So I told you what you'd need to help him, gave him a quick swipe, and then bolted. Had you done the intelligent thing, _like you were supposed to_, you would have gone to the kit, done what I just did, let me get away, and we wouldn't be sitting here having this conversation. Unfortunately I didn't think you'd send an Asian track start after me which is how I got caught. Then again…he'd be dead if I hadn't come back."

"You did this…to get away?" questioned Michonne. "We weren't going to hurt you."

"Yeah well I haven't had the best luck with other survivors so sorry if I got a little jumpy."

"We've had problems as well," said Rick. "How long have you been here?"

"The whole time. So are you going to kill me now or do you want me to let you have your guns back first?" asked Bill.

"No, I get where you're coming from." Rick's words were met with silent disapproval from his companions. "We're at a prison. It's pretty safe there. We could use your skills as a medic if you'd like to come back with us."

"No," said Glenn firmly. "No way. He just tried—"

Rick held up a hand to quiet Glenn.

"Going to take me to jail, huh?" asked Bill with a cock of his eyebrows. "Sounds real inviting." Bill moved to check the back of Daryl's head and found a large knot. "He's going to be feeling that one for a few days but once again, I knew what I was doing."

"Ok," said Rick, "let me try this once more. You may be a medic but I'm a sheriff and you're under arrest. You _are_ coming back to the prison with us."

Glenn took that as his cue and he sprang forward and wrestled Bill to the floor. Tyreese retied his hands with the piece from Glenn's shirt and put him under Michonne's care. Together, Glenn and Tyreese helped stand Daryl so Rick could get up.

"Ok, now you're just pissing me off," rumbled Bill. "Go ahead and move him. Jostle him around in a car. That really does sound like the best idea at the moment."

Rick didn't know how it happened but his fist suddenly met with the man's face. Bill was knocked backward into Michonne while blood spurted from his nose. "I've had it with your shit!" he roared.

"Good!" Bill snapped back. "I've had it with yours too! That's my patient and you're not moving him until I say you can. So sit his ass back down and calm the fuck down."

No one protested so Daryl was lowered to the ground with gentle hands. "Tyreese," said Rick grabbing his attention, "get the guns free."

Tyreese nodded and looked around for something to break the lock on the chest where their weapons had been stored. His search eventually yielded a shovel that he used to strike the lock with. After ten maddening hits, the lock hadn't budged.

"What is with you people and making everything a hundred times harder than it has to be—huh?" laughed Bill. "The key is in my back pocket."

Michonne's fingers dug into Bill's pocket and found a small silver key. She tossed it to Tyreese who got the lock open. Glenn came forward to reclaim his gun while Michonne eagerly drew her katana and pressed the tip into Bill's back.

"So how are we doing this?" asked Rick. "We're expected back at our prison before dark. I don't need anyone getting worried and coming out looking for us. But you say Daryl can't be moved."

"Send one of these monkeys back there and tell them you had car trouble and will be along in the morning—that you're holed up someplace safe for the night."

Rick didn't like the idea one bit. But the idea of moving Daryl and making his condition worse appealed to him even less.

"Ok," nodded Rick. "Who wants to go back?"

"I'll go back," offered Tyreese. 'I'll take Daryl's motorcycle since he won't be able to ride it. I'll tell them the car stalled out and that you'd either have it working in the morning or just come back in the truck. We still have to take the supplies back…and our plus one."

"Finally one of you is thinking straight," sighed Bill. "I knew I liked you."

* * *

A/N: So what do y'all think so far? Anything that I'm missing or doing wrong? I'm interested to know what y'all might like to read.


	9. Warning Shot

**DISCLAIMER**: I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of it's characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS**: Rated M for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

**A/N:** So here's the deal. I'm not feeling too hot but I do try to update every day so here's a little something I came up with. It's not much and I'll try to have the rest out later tonight (no promises though). Enjoy!

* * *

The hunched figure crept along a dark and narrow staircase. There was a break in his silent footfalls as he threw a cautious glance over his shoulder. He was bathed in shadow but any miscalculation now would cost him dearly. He stole forward a few more feet and pressed his hand against the cold metal door. The hinges groaned as they protested yielding to the man. As the door scraped open, a rush of cool night air swept inside. It smelled like rain was coming. His movements quickened.

The man frowned at the inky sky above him.

The stars and half moon illuminated the storm clouds that were twisting in from the North. There wouldn't be much time before the whole sky was blotted out by them. His window was rapidly closing.

He removed a small red gun from his pocket and aimed it high into the heavens. His finger quivered as it pulled the trigger and a bright red light was shot into the sky. It burned so intensely it was almost pink and left a thin silver trail of smoke in its wake. The flare streaked up into a tall arc then began to descend back to earth.

The warning had been sent.

And then he waited. The gun in his hands was replaced with a walkie-talkie that he clutched like it was the last prayer he had left in this world.

The device crackled.

"_Are they there?_" asked what sounded like the Hispanic man.

"Yes," breathed the figure from the roof.

"_Let me get him._"

A minute of silence split the man's gut like razor blades. The radio hovered by his mouth in anticipation.

"_How many?_" requested the voice he'd been both fearing and waiting desperately for.

"Four."

"_Rick?_"

"Yes," swallowed the man.

"_The others?_"

"Glenn, Daryl, Michonne."

A pause.

"_Hurt?_"

"Just Daryl. He's keeping them here."

A second pause. Was he not supposed to hurt them? It was the only way. These were the four that—

"_Thirty Minutes…__Don't let them leave._"

* * *

A/N: As always, let me know what you think. (If you want to).


	10. Liar, Liar

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

A/N: Sorry for the horrid hour at which this is posted and for not updating sooner. Still not feeling the best but I appreciate all y'all and hearing back from you is really the highlight of my day. My next update will be more timely. Thank you so much! And a shout out to PandamoniumPress who I forgot to thank for their review!

* * *

"Look, I already told you: They stayed behind, they didn't get left behind."

Tyreese had to suppress a prison riot when he showed up alone on Daryl's bike. Everyone but Carl had jumped to the worst conclusion—that'd they just lost their most valuable players in one fell swoop.

"I just don't understand…"

Tyreese hung his head.

"Carol, they're fine—all of them. They're holed up in this store. They've got some food and water and there aren't any walkers. They'll be back in the morning," said Tyreese.

"How'd you say the car stalled out?" asked Hershel.

_Shit_, thought Tyreese. He hadn't really worked that part of the story out.

"Uh dead battery?" The vet's eyes narrowed. "Dead battery," said Tyreese more assuredly. "We tried to jump it but no luck. We picked through some of the cars there but those didn't work either. It was getting dark so Rick suggested I come back."

"Daryl really just let you ride off on Merle's bike like that?" asked Beth.

Why wouldn't they believe him? Was he that bad of a liar?

"Well he wasn't happy about it but Rick wanted him to stay. Like I said: They're fine," finished Tyreese proudly.

"Ok," said Hershel. "I think we've all had enough excitement over this. We should call it a night."

The group around Tyreese began to dissipate and headed back to their cells. It had been a tense hour, to say the least. Carl was the only one to be taking the news surprisingly well. He didn't say much but took off to one of the guard towers to start the night's watches.

Tyreese turned at hearing the clicks from Hershel's crutches as he drew closer. That old man had been hard to fool.

"You know Tyreese, it's been a long day and I don't think you've had anything to eat. There's still some dinner set out, why don't we get you something?" said Hershel. The pair wandered through the prison block until they came to their cafeteria area. Hershel sat at one of the tables and motioned for Tyreese to join him.

Hershel cast a glance around the room before speaking. "Now Tyreese, I've been around enough horse manure to know when something stinks…and son, that's a lot of manure you brought in with you tonight."

"No Hershel, everything is fine."

Hershel sighed. "I don't think you understand Tyreese. That's my future son-in-law out there, Rick saved my life, and Michonne and Daryl were instrumental in rescuing my daughter from Woodbury. Why don't you take a minute before telling me that everything is fine once more."

This time Tyreese was the one checking to make sure they were alone. "Ok look…" Hershel's face remained expressionless as Tyreese filled him in on the events of the day. He didn't bat an eyelash when he was told how Bill cut Daryl's neck and then ended up being the one to save him. "….Rick didn't want to stay but Bill said that Daryl couldn't be moved until tomorrow."

Hershel frowned. "Was Daryl awake when you left?"

"Yeah…he said he'd kill me if I crashed his bike," laughed Tyreese. "He'll be…fine."

"That's the problem," said Hershel as he gathered his crutches under him. "Daryl _can_ be moved if he is awake and coherent. Bill doesn't want them going anywhere."

The blood drained from Tyreese's face leaving him unnaturally pale. "You, you think this is some sort of set-up? It's only the one guy and he _gave_ us our weapons back. Rick isn't going to drop his guard around him. Should we get a group together and go back?"

"Who would you send back? Seems to me like everyone we'd send is already there," said Hershel gravely. "We can't risk it."

The prison fell into an eerie state lacking its main guardians. It didn't feel right without Michonne and Daryl's watchful eyes or Rick and Glenn's guns. Some from Woodbury whispered that they would be safer taking refuge back in their former town. Little Judith was also not at ease. She cried inconsolably even when Carol tried to lay her down on Daryl's cot thinking that might comfort her. By midnight, Tyreese was fed up with the cries and hushed complaints. He slipped away to the guard tower to relieve Carl from his shift.

He found the boy checking out the tree line through the scope on his rifle. Rick wouldn't let him touch the larger guns but Rick wasn't around tonight noted Tyreese.

A dim flicker of lightning caught Tyreese's attention. "Looks like it might rain tonight," he said to break the ice.

Carl sniffed.

"Your dad's going to be ok," said Tyreese as he moved closer to the boy. "That's a strong group: They can take care of themselves."

"I hope the Governor attacks us tonight," said Carl suddenly.

Tyreese grabbed Carl's gun and yanked it away. "Why would you say that?"

Carl made a grab for the gun but Tyreese backed up. "Because I'm the only one that will kill him! None of them will do it! They've all had the chance to kill him and they didn't. I want to kill him."

"Carl, you're not ready for that," said Tyreese. "That's some pretty heavy stuff."

"I've done it before—killed someone," Carl said without remorse. "I killed that kid from Woodbury. I shot my mom…I'll kill the Governor. I'm ready for it."

"Look um Carl….maybe you should go back inside the prison. Judith has been crying all night and maybe you'll be able to get her to stop."

"I don't have to," said Carl. "Rick—my dad—put me in charge."

"Carl—"

"Go back to the prison Tyreese," said Carl as he reclaimed the rifle from the stunned man. "I'm on watch tonight."

* * *

Daryl exceeded everyone's expectations by not killing Bill when he had come forward with a new bandage for his neck. Granted Rick kept his crossbow on his back just for that reason. He even accepted a new shirt since his was soaked in blood. Daryl offered no resistance to Bill while he redressed the wound. Bill causally explained how he really didn't want to hurt Daryl but he was just too intimidating to be dealt with conscious. He went on about how he was an army medic when the world fell apart and that he'd been at the camp from the beginning. Bill retold the story of the day he got sick and his unit went out to help one of the neighboring towns that were being overrun with walkers. He alone had stayed behind and that's how it'd been ever since. He'd had a few close calls with other groups that wanted his supply pile but not necessarily him. He apologized again for his somewhat crude escape attempt and would've been truly sorry had it cost Daryl his life.

Daryl, however, didn't buy it as quickly as the others. He scrutinized every word, muscle twitch, and blink from Bill. Unfortunately he thought Rick looked content enough to stay the night. He wasn't in a rush to question Rick's judgment when it'd kept them all alive for this long.

"So Daryl," said Bill after securing the new bandage, "what do you say we forgive and we forget this whole thing, huh?"

"I would 'cept I ain't Jesus and I don't have amnesia," said Daryl. "If yer done ya can go."

"Alright," said Bill as he stood, "I'll be around if you need anything. I've never had a walker within the perimeter. You'll be safe here," he assured Rick.

As Bill left, Daryl propped himself up on the cot with a few pillows. Rick, Glenn, and Michonne sat on the cot next to him.

"Daryl," sighed Rick, "I think it goes without saying that you've got to stop this lone wolf shit."

Daryl groaned and leaned back farther into the pillows. He brought one arm up to cover his eyes. "Ah, ya gotta be kiddin' me!" He should have been able to smell this intervention when it walked in the room.

Rick reached over and pulled his arm down. "I'm not Daryl; you've been really reckless. First the stuff back in Woodbury, now this. Do you know what happens when a wolf gets too far from its pack…It dies."

Daryl bristled. "Yeah, and where the hell is our pack? Asleep in the prison."

"That's different," said Glenn.

"No it ain't. That's where we belong."

"Daryl you could have died today," said Michonne.

"Hell I coulda died yesterday, and the day 'fore that. Any of us could. Not doin' ourselves or the prison any favors just sittin' here."

Rick's head fell into his hands. Daryl was putting up a pretty good argument despite having been knocked out and lost a fair amount of blood. "Daryl, all I'm saying is that the next time you think about taking off on your own, don't."

"Bullshit on this!" cried Daryl as he flung his legs over the side of the cot. The sudden movement made his head spin, but he ignored it. Before Rick or the others could protest, Daryl was on his feet. Now that he was vertical, his thin blood couldn't get enough oxygen to his brain and Daryl's vision went dark. Rick saw the vacant look in his eyes and grabbed Daryl as he stumbled forward.

"_Damn it Daryl_" he scolded as he tried to coax the hunter back onto the cot.

"Lemme go," hissed Daryl. He tried shaking Rick off him but if anything the man drew closer. "I gotta take a piss."

"And then?" prompted Michonne with a raised brow.

"I shake it off an come back in!"

Rick released Daryl as it seemed like he was finally getting his feet under him. "I'll come with you," he offered.

Daryl scoffed at Rick's proposal. "Like hell ya will…Not goin' out unless I got my crossbow though," he said with a weak grab at weapon on Rick's back. Rick turned and took a step away.

"Naw, I think it's best that it stay here with me…" he said and patted the shoulder strap. "There aren't many walkers. You'll be fine with just your knife."

Well if that wasn't the most intelligent thing Rick had done all day, thought Daryl dryly. He gave his bow one long look, decided he wasn't near enough in the right shape to take on Rick, and staggered onward. He made it another four steps and then the darkness started to creep into the corner of his vision. He reached blindly and found a wall and used it to guide him to a back exit of the building.

Daryl groaned as he took care of business.

Everything Bill had said tasted like a lie and the others ate it up like it was an apple pie.

"_I can't be moved? I'm not stable enough_?" Daryl thought he was doing pretty good, all things considered. He was even mildly appreciative of the new headache Bill had given him. His neck stung something fierce but it didn't matter—just going to be one more scar. Carol was going to give him shit about it that was for damn sure. He already figured he'd say he attempted following Glenn under some wire and got caught. Maybe he would try that 'lone wolf' thing again. They had more heads around now; less likely to miss his.

Daryl was brought back to the camp by crackling of thunder to the north. Now they really were stuck if bad weather was moving in. They couldn't risk getting caught out in a storm. He watched the lightning shoot between the clouds and the rumbles that followed. Somehow it reminded him of his brother. Thunder and lightning. Both parts of the same storm but never really fit together. Always was just him and Merle: Couldn't get one without the other. And now lightning was gone…put out by thunder.

"_Shit, shit, shit!_" Daryl swore and kicked at the side of the building. When his boot connected with the brick wall, the door swung open. For a second he thought he'd hit a secret button but then a flashlight came on and he squinted as he was blinded. "The hell ya doin' Grimes," he complained and tried to shield his eyes.

"Sorry," said Rick and the light was turned off. "You've been gone a while."

"Ain't gone when I didn't go nowhere to begin with."

The two men were briefly lit up by another flash of lightning and thunder that trailed closer behind. Rick sighed and shut the door.

"What are you thinking about?"

Daryl rubbed the back of his aching head. "Thinkin' that truck is gonna make a soggy ride with the windows all shot out when this storm blows through."

Daryl thought Rick appeared to nod in agreement. "I've got the keys on me, we can go move it. Back it up under one of the awnings."

"Let's get to it then," said Daryl as he stepped away from the wall. "We don't got much time." Rick led the way around the building. He'd periodically click the flashlight on to make sure they weren't going to be met with any walker surprises. It was already difficult to hear over the howling winds.

The pair had almost made it halfway to the cars when Rick was jerked to the side by Daryl and thrown roughly against the wall. Daryl heard his crossbow being jostled and ripped it over Rick's head. He had to focus every ounce of energy into drawing it and was rewarded with the feeling like he was swimming through a choking fog.

"_What's wrong?_" whispered Rick as he un-holstered his revolver.

"Those trucks weren't here earlier."

"What trucks?"

Two quick flashes of lightning showed Rick what trucks Daryl was talking about.

At the far side of the lot, three large trucks were parked in a single line. After another flash of lightning, Rick thought there might've been a man-sized shadow in front of one of the doors. A second flash showed no shadow.

"Looks like Bill just took a shortcut to the front of my shit list_,_" said Daryl from under the cover of a gust of wind. "That center one is the Governor's truck."


	11. Split Decisions

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

A/N: Eh, disregard this and enjoy.

* * *

"How the hell he'd get them here?" Rick asked as he jabbed his gun in the direction of the Governor's trucks.

"Don't matter. We gotta get the others."

Rick and Daryl both took a careful few moments to watch the vehicles. Neither could be certain there were any men near them which meant they could've already made their way into the camp. Keeping as low to the ground as possible, they backtracked to the exit they came out of. Daryl shut the door and sank against it to catch his breath. Rick didn't have time for it and he pulled the other away. "We have to find them," he reminded Daryl.

Daryl gave a sharp nod and raised his crossbow. The pair advanced out of the back room and into the main part of the store. More of the lights had been turned on and the brightness was unsettling. Peeking around a stack of boxes, Rick spotted Glenn and Michonne talking with Bill over by their cots. Rick motioned for Daryl and the two rushed forward with their weapons pointed at the back of the unsuspecting man. Michonne caught on first and within a second had her katana a hair's breadth away from Bill's throat. Bill's hands flew into the air and he looked wildly around.

"What's going on?" asked Glenn. He too found his gun and raised it at Bill.

Bill heard a gun cock then felt the cool metal of Rick's python pressed against his temple as the gun's owner stepped into view. "The Governor is here," glared Rick, "and you've got about five seconds to explain or those will be the last five seconds of your life."

Bill's calm demeanor melted away and he sank to the floor in a heap of sobs.

"One…." said Rick as his gun followed the man to the ground. "Two…"

"I, I'm sorry," blabbered Bill. "I didn't want it to be like this. I'm so, so sorry. Please…" he raised his hands in a prayer at Rick.

"That's not an explanation asshole," growled Daryl.

"_Three_…"

Bill's eyes grew wider and his cries more frantic. "Please don't kill me. Please, you can't. You're not bad guys and you—"

Bill's next words were cut short by Rick's boot as it slammed into his back and he was thrown face-first against the floor. "_Four_." Rick shifted the boot and moved it to grind into Bill's neck.

"Ok, ok…" panted Bill. Rick eased up on his foot just enough for the other to speak. "Ok this camp was overrun real bad with walkers a few months ago—the whole town was. Me and a couple of buddies were trying to keep our families here but we were running out of supplies. So this Governor guy shows up and offers to clean out the town for us."

"Yeah," said Glenn, "what did he want in return?"

Bill swallowed hard. "He said he had come across a ton supplies from another National Guard camp and needed a place to store them. He said he'd let us stay here if we watched out for his things. There were only thirteen of us, six women and kids, and he had a pretty good following so we agreed. Then yesterday he came by and told us he'd been attacked by your people and most of his men were killed. He said it wasn't going to be safe for us to stay here and offered to move us to another location. He had me stay behind to warn him if or when you showed up….I didn't think you'd come so soon…."

Rick's eyes clouded over and the muscles in his jaw clenched. "How many men did he have with him yesterday?"

"Him and two others….six of my guys joined up with him."

"Nine against four?" asked Glenn. He looked to Rick and Michonne who seemed to be thinking along those lines as well.

"Three," said Daryl quietly.

Rick wondered who Daryl was leaving out until he caught sight of the hunter. Daryl was almost as a pale as a walker and his shirt was darkened by sweat. A thin layer of perspiration covered his brow. Even as Rick watched, Daryl rolled his head against his shoulder to keep the sweat from his eyes. Rick frowned at the odds.

Rick lowered his gun a fraction of an inch. "The cars are out front but so is the Governor. There's woods not too far behind the store….if we can get back in there we can pick them off."

"Those woods will be filled with walkers," said Michonne. "Plus the storm… nighttime…"

"He's going to be coming in through the front of the store," put in Bill desperately. "He'll only send one or two around the back."

"Then we go out the back," decided Rick. Glenn and Michonne scrambled to grab their bags and gear they'd brought in with them. Daryl took the moment to down half a bottle of water. He wiped his mouth and gave Rick the smallest nod. "Anything else you'd like to add Bill?"

"No," he said meekly.

Rick stared down at the man, blue eyes meeting black.

"Then five."

The shot from Rick's gun tore through the store. The four standing around Bill were splattered with blood and brain matter. Glenn had the misfortune of having his mouth open and spit disdainfully at the body of Bill.

"That's one way to get taken off my list," mused Daryl.

"There's no way they didn't hear that," said Glenn. "We've got to—"

Glenn killed his voice as the lights around the store went out. The group tensed as crouched shadows passed by the large windows up front between flashes of lightning. "Michonne you lead then Glenn, Daryl, and me."

"_Rick_..." Rick felt Daryl rest against his shoulder and lean in to speak although he couldn't see him properly. "I can't make that run. I'll stay behind and lay down some cover fire. Get ya some time."

"Nope, no way," said Rick. "I told you no more lone wolf stuff—Michonne go." Rick gave Daryl a good jab with the tip of his gun to get him moving. Michonne took off with the others pressed closely behind her. They didn't stop as they heard the front door open and the rush of wind that was let inside. Rick's heart sank at the way Daryl's breathing became more labored in front of him. He had a bad feeling that if things got hairy, Daryl would gladly sacrifice himself to save the others.

They made it to the backdoor and Glenn reached for the handle. Michonne readied her sword to cut through anyone on the other side. Rick missed whatever silent signal the pair used but the door was opened and a pitiful scream rose above the storm. Two silenced gunshots followed and then a muted cry.

"Clear," said Michonne. He heard her flick her blade and mentally subtracted two from the number of remaining foes. Rick paused briefly as he stepped over the bodies of the men. One was cut almost in haalf while the other's head barely remained attached to its body. He assumed the men's bullets didn't find a mark by the lack of complaing from his companions.

Beyond the store, it was a hundred yard dash to the trees. The pouring rain and unrelenting winds beat down upon the four without mercy. Michonne dispatched the lone walker that was milling about. When Glenn reached her, they broke into a race for the trees. At first Rick couldn't believe they'd just leave him with the struggling Daryl, but then again they hadn't heard him say he wouldn't be able to make it. Daryl was holding his own until he went down twenty yards from the cover off the trees. Rick shouted for Glenn but the call went unanswered. Lightning showed Daryl attempting to raise himself from the ground and Rick took one of his arms and got him up. He looped it around his neck and hobbled with Daryl the rest of the way to the trees.

"Daryl, you with me?"

"Mostly," answered the other. "What's the plan?"

Plan? There had been a plan for this? He thought the plan had been for them to all stick together but Glenn and Michonne just spoiled that.

"To stay one step ahead of the Governor," said Rick after a thoughtful pause.

"Stayin' a step ahead of the Governor ain't a plan," said Daryl lowly.

"How 'bout this for a plan," said an unfamiliar voice on Rick's left.

A bright flash of lightning gave Rick half a second to prepare for the baseball bat as it came swinging in at him. The force of the blow had him doubled over and knocked Daryl away from him as well. The python left Rick's hand as he needed it to clutch at his wounded side. Rick tried to find a breath but came up short. Another hit across his ribs forced him to his knees.

"Yeah, it'll be easier if you stay there," taunted Rick's attacker. Rick was dealt a kick to his side that rolled him onto his back.

It was too risky to be shooting in the darkness so Daryl abandoned his crossbow and pulled his knife. He lunged toward the last place he'd seen who he guessed was Martinez and drove his knife down.

Into air.

He stumbled at the lack of contact and caught himself on the trunk of a tree.

"_Daryl_," moaned Rick, "_go._"

Daryl didn't have the strength to respond and attack at the same time and lashed out blindly again. He heard a small "_whoa_" and figured he was getting closer. His third strike collided with a metal object and the hit reverberated up his arm. So that was the bat.

Martinez was thoroughly enjoying playing with Daryl. Personally he thought the son of a bitch was too sure of himself and needed to be brought down a few pegs. The guy rode around on a loud ass motorcycle attracting walkers and only used a crossbow against them. Yeah, something needed to happen to him. He'd been told that this one was injured and not much of a threat which took some of the fun out of it. He wasn't to be shot on sight though. Only the Asian kid was to be allowed a quick death.

"Shoulda left this one behind Rick," scolded Martinez. "He just slowed you down. Doesn't even have much fight in him."

Rick coughed and moaned as a boot dug into his weakened side. Daryl was allowed the briefest glimpse of Rick on the ground courtesy of a lightning bolt over the store. Martinez had used the time to look at his downed captive and appeared to be taking out some zip ties from his pocket. Daryl saw it as his final opportunity and stabbed. He felt his knife sink into flesh and a cry. He hoped Martinez hadn't just pulled a fast one and thrown Rick in the way of his blade. But the curses that came out were in Spanish and he released the knife. He knew it hadn't gone in as deep as he wanted it to, nor did he know where he stabbed to begin with. Whevere it hit, it caused Martinez to fall away from Rick and writhe in pain on the forest floor.

Daryl found strength he didn't know he had and managed to get Rick on his feet. His crossbow and Rick's gun had fallen near one another and he scooped them up. "Michonne! Glenn!" he called into the stormy night.

Daryl felt Rick shudder against him. "Ya with me?" he asked the man.

"Mostly," wheezed Rick.


	12. Hide and Seek

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

A/N: Ok so I feel like the quality of the last few chapters hasn't been all that stellar. I hope this one makes up for it. After all, y'all take the time to ready this so I should make it worth reading.

* * *

"_Glenn! Michonne!_"

Daryl's voice sounded too far away to be right next to him. Rick knew he was dragging them both down and was diminishing their chance of escape, if ever there was any. Each breath he took drove a red-hot pain through his left side. He tried to hold his breath and delay the inevitable misery for as long as he could, but that made his suffering worse when his lungs did receive air.

Rick vaguely heard the call for Glenn and Michonne being repeated. He sensed Daryl was still helping him move; he could feel the subtle warmth being given off by his body. He was unaware of the point at which his gun made it back into his hand. The silver barrel was the only thing he could see and his fingers curled tighter around it. How did it come to this? Why did they leave the prison in the first place? They were building something…a greenhouse. It was supposed to be a simple run. How trivial that seemed now.

The bushes in front of the injured duo rustled and had Rick unconsciously raising his gun. It seemed like the right thing to do—that it was the proper reaction. He wasn't sure why then a hand was placed on top of his and pushed it down. Then the warmth at his side was gone but was replaced by another smaller feeling source of heat. There was a tug at his shirt and Rick felt it being lifted so that the rain pelted his angry side. Thin fingers swept over his ribs inducing another stab of pain. He tried to pull away but whoever was supporting him now was stronger than Daryl had been and he was forced to endure the gentle prodding.

"Easy Rick," coaxed Glenn who had taken Daryl's position. He and Michonne had run ahead and were working their way back when they heard Daryl yell. "How bad is he Michonne?"

"At least a broken rib or two. How many times did you say he got hit?" she asked Daryl.

"Twice plus a kick…Hershel needs to see 'im," said Daryl.

"Hershel needs to see both of you," put in Glenn.

Daryl snorted but couldn't help agree with the kid.

"Whatever Wonton; I'm good for another round."

"Good because you might have to….we've got company," said Michonne indicating the row of flashlight beams that were encroaching upon the forest. "There should be only six of them left."

"Alright," said Daryl, "so we stay here and take 'em down."

"_No_," huffed Rick. "We've got to keep moving. Our shooting will attract whatever is in these woods. We don't know what's in here."

Rick was back. He was still leaning heavily on Glenn but mentally he was able and aware.

"I can kill them," said Michonne. "Glenn can go with you and Daryl and try to find a way back to the cars."

"There might be a herd in here and the three of us won't stand a chance. Plus I'm not going to leave you to face six men, some with military experience," said Rick with a shake of his head.

"Damn it! Are we ever gonna kill this guy? We can see 'em; let's shoot 'em!" Daryl raised his crossbow, put one of the flashlights in the center of his sight and dropped the bow in disgust. It was too windy and the trees were too thick to get an accurate shot. He'd just end up wasting one of his valuable arrows. Bullets wouldn't be much good for the same reasons. "Got another one of yer plans Grimes?"

"Stay two steps ahead of the Governor?" he asked sheepishly. Daryl groaned while Michonne and Glenn wondered what the joke was that they were missing. "Bill asked how we've lasted so long and let's show him. The Governor can't hit us if we keep moving. We have the cover of darkness and the trees. They won't be able to track us. We'll move parallel to the tree line so we don't get in too deep," said Rick with a serious edge. "Let's go."

Rick admitted that it was hardly a plan and a bad one at that. However he and Daryl were injured and it was too risky to start shooting when there could be a walker herd wandering nearby.

The pain in his side didn't get any less but he simply pushed it someplace else. Glenn needed to have his hands free so Rick and Daryl teamed up again. It wasn't the best situation but they made do. Michonne led them on and dealt with any walkers that came stumbling up. Behind the four, the movement of the flashlights stopped as they came across the downed man.

"Ain't gonna be long 'fore they find our trail," said Daryl as he looked back. "Might as well be leavin' 'em a map."

"Let's not forget whose fault it is that we're in this mess," dared Michonne.

Rick felt Daryl's muscles coil under his arm.

"Wouldn't be out here if it weren't for some bullshit greenhouse for Woodbury!"

"We need it," argued Michonne. "It's a good idea."

"Sendin' those dogs from Woodbury back to the streets is a better one," spat Daryl.

Michonne eased forward and Rick saw her katana move slightly towards Daryl. "Do you want to be like the Governor? Leave those people to their deaths?"

Daryl looked positively mutinous. "Hell, maybe he was on to somethin'. Nothin' but more mouths to feed!"

"You're the only one who's complained about them," said Michonne as she drew in.

Rick felt Daryl's hand graze his leg as he went to pull his knife, not remembering he had left it in Martinez.

"_ENOUGH!_"

Rick separated himself from Daryl and stepped between him and Michonne. This new to-hell-with-the-world attitude Daryl had acquired was wearing thin on Rick. "Stop, just stop it...Daryl, unless you get bit, I don't want to hear another word out of you until we are back at the prison." He jabbed a finger into Daryl's chest to emphasize his point. "I get it: We're tired, wet, hurt, cold, and being chased. But we can't be arguing about things that don't matter right now."

A wounded and betrayed looked flashed across Daryl's face, not that it mattered any to Rick. He had to curse himself though for the air and subsequent pain it cost him to produce his little speech. But his anger propelled him forward and Rick took the lead of their small group. Michonne remained near his back with Daryl taking an unwilling step behind her. Glenn rounded out the troupe only wishing for a warm ride back to the prison and some dry clothes.

Rick clutched at his side as his pace quickened into a jog. In the moments that he dared to slow and look back, the glow from the Governor's flashlights was definitely following them. At least they weren't shooting. That was something to be thankful for. They didn't need to be ducking from bullets _and_ dodging walkers. If they could make it another hundred yards without incident, Rick decided he'd chance a run at the cars by Glenn and Daryl while he and Michonne continued to lead their pursuers into the forest. The men wouldn't be likely to spot the diverging paths of footprints and just figure the group remained whole. Glenn and Daryl could then take the cars, come driving in, and pluck he and Michonne from the trees. Sure the Governor would open fire at that point, but they'd have some protection in the cars. Then the Governor himself could deal with all the walkers the noise would draw in. Maybe he'd lose a few men that way.

After another thirty seconds, Rick halted the group. "We can't keep going on like this," he explained in a tired voice, "they'll run us into the ground or into a herd. Glenn and Daryl, I need you two to make a run for the cars. Take both of them then drive this way. Michonne and I will be up ahead and leading them away from you. I've got my flashlight and I'll turn it on just for a second to show you where we are."

"Wait, Daryl's hurt. Why don't Michonne and I run?" asked Glenn.

"Because I need Michonne here in case they catch up to us. Daryl is too weak to fight and his crossbow is useless now," said Rick placing a hand on Glenn's shoulder. The younger man nodded in understanding.

Daryl, however, had a murderous look scroll across his face at having the words 'weak' and 'useless' being used in the same sentence to describe him.

Weak? Hell, he was going to beat the kid to the cars and drive back to Rick before Glenn even got his started. As for useless, well, Rick would be singing a different tune if it wasn't so damn windy.

Daryl heard the jingle of keys and held out a hand. Glenn already had the keys to the Hyundai on him so of course _he_ was to take the truck. The truck with the broken windows which would be a mess to drive. Yeah, Daryl was really looking forward to that. He closed his fist around the keys until they dug painfully into his skin.

Daryl secured his 'useless' crossbow on his back before darting out of the cover of the trees. Glenn was momentarily caught off guard by Daryl's brashness and stood frozen until Rick gave him a push to get moving.

Daryl raced on mostly blind. He had a reasonable idea where the cars were and the periodic flashes of lightning showed him the rest. He tried not to feel winded but damn, he just knew his blood wasn't moving like he needed it to. His lungs would fill with air but he was left breathless. His muscles protested and a cramp was making its presence known in his left calf. He had to shake his head to clear his vision but that made him see double. The wet clothes he was stuck in wasn't helping his cause either: They clung to his legs and pulled funny. He had to readjust himself midstride on more than one occasion.

The quick feet of Glenn were gaining on him and he swore. He couldn't allow the kid, what had he called him-Wonton-to beat him. He pushed himself and dug deeper for more speed. Daryl hesitantly checked over his shoulder and found Glenn only a second behind. There was nothing to be done for it as Glenn passed him. Fortunately Daryl had also seen the Governor's flashlights still in the forest. Rick's plan had worked and they hadn't noticed the two fleeing. Daryl wished for another flash of lightning to point him towards the car but those were becoming fewer and farther between. Glenn might've been thinking along the same lines as his foot struck a cement parking beam and he skidded across the pavement. Daryl paused to grab the kid's belt and get him up faster. The two were then blessed with a distant bolt of lightning and found the cars closer than they thought.

Glenn slammed into the side of the Hyundai and threw the door open. Daryl was a little more cautious with his body but was in the truck just as fast. He threw a glance over his shoulder into the backseat to be sure he wasn't taking any unwelcome passengers with him. Satisfied, he started the truck and gunned it. He and Glenn drove parallel across the parking lot. Without the noise from the storm, the approach of the cars could not be masked. Daryl saw the beams of the flashlights change direction and point at him and Glenn. He reasoned gunfire was about to follow and hit the truck's headlights to stun the men. Next to him, Glenn did the same. Daryl heard a distant popping noise and guessed someone _finally _decided to shoot at someone.

"'Bout damn time," growled Daryl. He gave the truck some more gas and scanned for Rick's flashlight. The two men were on the same page and Daryl saw the other's light flash briefly and two shadows dash from the trees.

Rick and Michonne.

Gunfire followed the pair as they split for different vehicles. Daryl hit the brakes and slid over the saturated ground. He waited for his passenger, which turned out to be Michonne, then peeled out when he accelerated again. There were several loud _thunks _as bullets hit the truck's tailgate.

"They back there?" asked Daryl who'd rather keep his deteriorating vision focused on the road rather than check a mirror.

"Yes," said Michonne. "Rick said for us to stay together until we see the Governor following us, then we need to take different roads. It also makes him decide who he wants more: Me or Rick."

Daryl smirked. He wasn't about to admit it but that was actually a fair plan.

"What?" asked Michonne at seeing his expression. "Something _else_ not to your liking?"

"Didn't say that," said Daryl.

"Are you mad that we didn't shoot back?"

"We shoulda shot first," came Daryl's quick response. "None of this hidin' and runnin' away like a bitch!"

"We did what we had to to make sure you were safe." Daryl kept his eyes steady but his fingers were in a death grip on the steering wheel. "We wouldn't have been stuck there if-"

"Got the picture a long time ago. Gonna keep seein' it every time I look at my neck too," snapped Daryl. His foot pressed harder on the gas. The faster they got to the prison, the faster he could be by himself.

"Your brother made his choice," said Michonne without warning. "He did a lot of bad things and they finally caught up to him. His death was his own doing."

What color was left in Daryl's face drained away. "He died tryin' to do the right thing...Tryin' to give us a better chance. Hell he took out some of Philip's best men and instead a fightin' 'em, Rick had us hide! Didn't hand yer ass over either and he coulda."

"One right in a long book of wrongs."

Daryl side-eyed Michonne and found her unreadable. "Is yer problem with me or Merle?" he asked.

"I'm telling you to keep your head about things so Rick doesn't have to put you down one day," said Michonne in a flat voice.

Daryl decided it was time to ignore the headache that was sitting in the truck next to him. He didn't go poking his nose in anyone else's business so why was it so hard to stay out of his? He never once asked for anything except to find Merle back in Woodbury. And maybe for some peace and quiet. Wasn't he supposed to be out hunting today? Except now he nearly died due to some nut job and was running from the Governor-again. And they didn't even get the supplies they came for!

Daryl exhaled heavily through his nose; the only physical sign that something had bothered him. He took several deep breaths to clear his head. The tension left his body and a calmness settled into his mind. He relaxed some into the seat.

His head was too clear. Something was wrong.

Daryl jerked as he struggled to grab onto a thought, any thought. It was like someone turned the faucet on to his brain and was draining it. He caught little snippets of things before they washed away but couldn't stop the fog and dizziness that rolled in.

"Take the wheel," Daryl struggled to say.

"What?" asked Michonne. She turned the overhead light on to see why Daryl needed her help.

"Take the wheel...I, I can't see anythin'..."

* * *

A/N: Aww another cliffhanger...guess you'll just have to come back to find out what happens next...


	13. Dixon Down

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

Michonne was beyond stunned. Daryl's eyes were wide open, how could he not see? The rain had shifted into a light drizzle so she could see out the windshield perfectly fine. Maybe he was talking about not seeing Glenn and Rick and wanted to turn and get a better look? She could tell the truck had started to decelerate as the hissing from the broken windows wasn't as loud. Maybe he was having a hard time reading the road signs. Was he prone to having prophetic moments but now he couldn't 'see' what was in their futures?

The redneck wasn't making any sense.

"What can't you see?" asked Michonne.

"_Everything_," said Daryl as he hands slipped from the steering wheel. His head fell against his right shoulder and he sagged into the seatbelt.

If it wasn't Daryl, Michonne would've thought it was some sort of twisted joke, but in the time she'd been with the prison group, Daryl had never joked around. He never did anything unless it was absolutely necessary for survival. In fact he was so serious Michonne thought that the muscles in his face were incapable of forming a smile.

Michonne made a grab for the wheel as the truck started to veer off the road. At least he was able to give her a brief warning before blacking out. She got the truck back under control and praised him for having enough awareness to remove his foot from the gas for her. The truck's speed decreased and she seized Daryl's right wrist. Her fingers moved around trying to pick up a pulse but found none. Next her fingers pried the bandage around his neck loose and slid under. There she found a pulse but it fluttered rapidly and without any sort of definite rhythm. Michonne passed her hand in front of Daryl's nose and felt the smallest breath on her hand. He was breathing but it was much too shallow to do him any good.

"Daryl," she said and shook his shoulder. She tapped his cheek and then let it rest against her hand. The stubble pressed into her palm but the skin underneath was much too cool for her liking. They were both cold from being out in the rain but Daryl should at least have some color in his cheeks from the running he did. Michonne tried to rouse Daryl again but he only responded by falling farther into the seatbelt and steering wheel.

"Damn it," she swore under her breath. The truck wasn't stopping fast enough so Michonne leaned across Daryl's legs and hit the emergency break. The truck's tires screeched but came to a halt along the dark the road. Michonne leapt out her side and around the front over to Daryl's door at the same time Rick and Glenn pulled up.

"What's wrong?" asked Glenn as he came running over.

Rick stepped gingerly out of the Hyundai. "Did he get shot?"

"No," said Michonne opening Daryl's door. "He said he couldn't see anything and then passed out."

Daryl was still leaning over the wheel as the others gathered around him. "Not good," assessed Glenn. "He's as pale as Hershel was when he lost his leg."

"Get him out and into the car," said Rick.

Together, Michonne and Glenn freed Daryl from the truck and eased him in the backseat of the Hyundai. Rick made sure to take Daryl's crossbow and tossed it into the car. Rick evaluated Daryl in much the same manner Michonne had and came up with the prognosis Glenn got: Not good. There was a small amount of bleeding from his neck wound but Rick figured that was to be expected from the running and fight with Martinez. Daryl had been doing ok—he was up and moving. Bill assured them Daryl hadn't lost _that_ much blood which now looked like an understatement. He should have figured Bill was lying about that too. Daryl had nearly died and all they did was stick a band-aid on him. Tyreese's jacket had been so soaked in Daryl's blood they made no attempt to salvage it. They had literally pulled Daryl out of a pool of his own blood and yet Bill still promised he'd be fine. Bill might not have even been an army medic and just got lucky with the kit. They should have put Daryl in the car, shot Bill, and left. Or shot Bill first…either way.

"How is he?" asked Glenn with a nervous edge.

"I don't know," said Rick. "I think he lost too much blood…it finally caught up to him."

"We shouldn't have made him run for it," said Glenn.

"_I know_," thought Rick hesitantly. Daryl's blood was indeed on his hands.

The car lurched suddenly as Glenn drove over a walker corpse and Daryl was thrown against Rick. Rick caught him around his shoulders and laid him across the seat as best he could. Daryl's wet hair was plastered to his face and Rick swept some away to see if the sudden movement had gotten Daryl to stir. Unfortunately Rick found the blue eyes he was looking for closed. Rick moved his hand away from Daryl's face and onto the erratic pulse at his neck. The skin was once again too cool and clammy. And pale. If the rain hadn't washed all the grime off Daryl, he could have easily passed for a walker.

Rick felt a small spasm shake Daryl's body. He set a hand in the center of Daryl's chest and realized he was shivering. "Michonne, turn the heater on as high as you can," said Rick, opening his knife. He pressed the blade into the wet fabric of Daryl's shirt and cut it straight down the center. The fabric split easily enough and Rick peeled it off Daryl. He maneuvered Daryl out of the ruined shirt and his vest and dropped both to the floor of the car. "Do we have anything dry?" asked Rick. Glenn and Michonne hastily searched for anything that could be used to warm Daryl with. Coming up short, Rick saw no other option. Daryl would kill him, _kill him_, for it and Rick would let him if it ended up saving his life.

Ignoring the pain in his own body, Rick placed his hands on Daryl's chest once more and began to rub it vigorously. It wouldn't provide him with much heat, but it was better than what the wet shirt had been doing for him. He repeated the process over Daryl's shoulders and arms in an attempt to get whatever blood was left in him moving.

The car became uncomfortably warm even for Rick in his chilled clothes. He considered it a minor inconvenience compared to the trouble with Daryl. Hershel was never going to allow any of them to leave the prison again even if Daryl survived. Rick's hands started to ache but he knew he had to keep the friction between them and Daryl. As far as he could tell, Daryl hadn't gotten any worse—or any better. He was just as pale and cold when he started his ministrations. If he could keep him that way, Hershel would know what to do.

Rick paused briefly to check Daryl's pulse. Maybe, just maybe, it was getting a little stronger. "How is he?" asked Glenn.

"About the same," answered Rick. "How far out are we?"

"Uh, thirty minutes," said Glenn. Rick sighed and dipped his head. His hands picked up their work on the skin over Daryl's heart.

* * *

A restless sleep fell over the cell block. The old from Woodbury decided it was useless to worry about what they couldn't change and the young were too little to understand what the old were fretting about. Only those from the original prison group remained awake. They gathered away from the ones that were sleeping and lit a few candles amongst themselves. It was just weird to be separated after so long together.

"I think it's odd that they wouldn't come back in the one car and take a second one out tomorrow," said Carol pacing between Maggie and Hershel.

"Relax Carol," said Karen, "sit down before you wear a hole in the floor."

Carol frowned at Karen's suggestion. She was still new here and didn't understand how important the missing four were. All these outsiders didn't get it.

"They're probably asleep right now," said Maggie cheerfully. "They'll be mad that we're all up and worrying about them."

Carol smiled weakly at Maggie, thanking her for her optimism. She still wasn't buying it though. "I can't believe that Daryl, Rick, and Glenn wouldn't be able to hotwire a car or something. They've done it before…" Carol finally sat next to Hershel who gave her a gentle pat on the leg.

"If there's one good thing to come out of this it's that Carl and Rick can have a night apart," said Hershel. "This could be a blessing in disguise." He alone had been privy to Tyreese's information but refused to hint that anything was wrong. If anything, he was the most prominent voice in saying that everything was fine. Carol leaned into Hershel's shoulder and he brought an arm around her in comfort.

"Should someone go relieve Carl from the guard tower? He's been out there all night," raised Beth.

Hershel chuckled but shook his head. "No, I think it's best that we leave Carl to himself. That's where he wants to be. Sasha said that Tyreese is watching him too."

Carol watched as Beth sighed and leaned against her sister, Judith finally asleep in her arms. "Here, I'll hold her for a few minutes," she offered the girl, eager to have something occupying her hands. Beth gladly gave Carol the baby then slipped her hands into her pockets. "She's not going to be a little ass kicker for much longer," said Carol thoughtfully. "I still can't believe he tried to name her that…I've never heard of a baby that had a nickname before a real name."

"Or one with the word 'ass' in it," said Maggie lightly. The others braved a few smiles and small laughter. Carol felt her level of anxiety diminish. It was Rick, Daryl, Glenn, and Michonne. If anyone could take care of themselves, it was those four. She knew she should be worried about the safety of the prison with them gone and not the other way around. If Rick even sensed they were going to be in danger, he'd have them back and forget about the truck. He'd kept them alive at the quarry, the CDC, the Greene's farm, those months on the road, and now made a home for them at the prison. There was little to worry about.

But a loud banging noise startled the group and gave Carol something to worry about. Sasha, Karen, and Maggie moved quickly to their weapons. Carol handed Judith over to Beth and put herself between them and the noise. It seemed like there were voices traveling towards them and then a panicked "_HERSHEL!"_ reverberated through the cell block.

Carol's heart clenched as Rick came limping in the door. He was soaking wet and had a wild look to his eyes and Carol couldn't believe it but, Daryl's crossbow. "Hershel it's…" Rick started to say then stopped at seeing everyone gathered so suddenly.

Hershel put his crutches under him and started forward. "Daryl?" he prompted. Rick gave him a curt nod.

"_Daryl is hurt?_" thought Carol and her breath stalled in her throat. "How, was he bit?"

Rick's eyes met with hers but took on a glazed appearance. He clutched at his side and tried to stumble away. "Rick!" called Maggie and she rushed to help him.

The prison closed in on Carol as Glenn and Tyreese carried Daryl between them—his head hanging limply against his bare chest. She had to take a moment to realize that it was indeed Daryl. His tanned body was unusually pale and deflated looking. His shirt was off, something she had yet to witness, but he didn't appear to have any bite marks on his torso or arms. She was just able to get a glance of a bandage around his neck as he was whisked by her.

The group parted and followed along as the men took Daryl into the first unoccupied cell. They deposited him on the bed and backed out of the cell so Hershel would be able to tend to him. "What happened?" asked Beth, speaking for the group.

"He was attacked-guy cut his throat," said Glenn gravely. "He said it wasn't too bad and we believed him. But..." his voice trailed as he looked at Daryl. "We thought he was fine and he was driving with Michonne and then he just passed out."

Hershel pulled the bandage away from Daryl and pressed his fingers against his neck. There was a thin red line that stood out drastically on his colorless skin. "He's lost too much blood...he's in shock. How long has he been like this for?

"Almost an hour" said Glenn lowly. "We couldn't get him here much faster."

Hershel's hands hovered over Daryl trying to decide where to begin. "We have to warm him. He's too cold and it's shutting down his system. Where's Rick?" Room in the cell was made for Rick at Hershel's beckoning. Maggie followed behind him looking distraught. "Beth, Karen, I need you to round up some extra blankets. Glenn and Sasha, get all the medical supplies you can. Tyreese, try to keep the Woodbury residents calm...Rick, he needs to get out of these wet clothes." Everyone dispersed at Hershel's instructions. Maggie and Carol hung back and waited to be called into action.

Maggie worked on untying Daryl's boots and then removing his thread-bare socks. Rick's hand moved to Daryl's belt and then to his zipper. It almost didn't register with Carol until Maggie grabbed the fabric around Daryl's ankles and pulled while Rick worked to peel the wet fabric off his hips and down his legs. Carol tried not to feel embarrassed, because Daryl was hurt and it was necessary, but he was just laid out for all to see.

Rick took what he could from a blanket and tossed it over Daryl to cover him. Beth came running back in with another blanket which Maggie took and spread over the first. "What else can we do?" asked Beth.

Hershel appeared to be concentrating on taking Daryl's pulse and didn't answer her. "His blood pressure is too low," he finally said. "He lost too much blood when he was attacked and wasn't allowed enough time to recover."

"Does he just need blood? Like you did on the farm for Carl?" asked Rick.

"We can't do that now. We don't know his blood type nor do we have sterile equipment for it. A transfusion now would almost be worse for him and the donor," said Hershel with a frown. "All we have are a few IV bags from the infirmary-that will have to do."

Glenn returned with two bags of their medical supplies and he handed them to Hershel. The vet rumaged through them and found what he needed. Maggie tore a strip from the blanket and tied it around Daryl's right arm to act as a tourniquet. Hershel then found a vein he deemed suitable for an IV. It was thinner than he hoped for and knew had Daryl been healthy, it'd be filled with strong Dixon blood. The site looked clean enough, a remakable feat considering Daryl's lack of hygiene, and Hershel slid a needle into it. Maggie attached the IV bag and removed the tourniquet from Daryl's arm.

"That's all we can do," said Hershel sadly as he sat back.

Rick's head snapped up. "No, there's got be more," he said in disbelief. He met Hershel's eyes and but Hershel looked away to take Daryl's pulse again.

"We won't lose him," said Carol softly as she knelt next to Rick.

"We can't lose him," he corrected.

* * *

A/N: Sorry for the late update on this one guys. But thank you for continuing to stick with the story. I appreciate hearing from everyone and I hope you are all doing well.


	14. What If

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

A/N: Yeah so funny story...I almost accidentally deleted this tonight. That would suck.

* * *

Every second that Daryl was ill for ate away at the prison like rust on an old car. They knew Daryl would need a long time to recover but deep down they were all hoping he'd just get up and go after some squirrels. He was their strong one, the one that never went down, and that scared them.

Hershel banished everyone but Rick, Carol, and Maggie from the cell as Daryl rested. Rick had finally allowed Hershel to examine his side once he was confident that Daryl was somewhat stabilized. It didn't surprise him that Martinez had given him three broken ribs that he felt every time he took a breath. He just hoped that Daryl had been able to return the favor and made that asshole suffer before he died. It wasn't much to think of, but Rick couldn't help but replay the fight. If Daryl hadn't been there, he'd been handed over to the Governor. He'd never receive a fast death by the hands of that man.

It had been a long time since Rick had anyone that he could fully trust with having his back. If anything, he thought it'd be him and Shane together at the end of it all. But some evil had taken hold of Shane and there was nothing to be gained from saying 'if things had been different…' Daryl was everything that Shane should have been. A partner, a friend, and a brother. There were others in the group, Glenn, Tyreese, maybe Michonne that he trusted but it wasn't the same. Daryl had been a loose cannon that had somehow been contained and now protected the group. How many times had they pointed some sort of weapon at the other's head? Hell, within the first five minutes of knowing each other Daryl had pulled a knife on him.

Rick snickered at the memory. He wasn't such a crazy redneck anymore.

"What's so funny?" asked Carol quietly.

"Just remembering that time at the quarry…fighting with him…" Rick said as he nodded towards Daryl.

"You're talking about him like he's dead," scolded Carol. "You should at least be giving him a chance."

Rick ran his fingers through his hair in thought.

What were they going to do if Daryl did die? Who would…who would make sure he didn't turn? Would they do it right in the cell with everyone from Woodbury around? Or would it be better to take Daryl outside and give him a few last moments not caged in the prison he hated so much? Did they have to shoot him? His gun destroyed Bill's head. Doing that to Daryl…it didn't seem right. A knife would be less jarring and clean, but more personal and he would have to do it. Rick decided if it came to it, and they were certain Daryl wasn't going to make it, they'd take him out into the woods just before he died. They'd set him down under a nice tree to give him a good few last breaths of fresh air. Let him hear the birds sing one last time, feel the cool breeze against his face, the soft dirt under his hands. Only the ones he was comfortable with would be there—no one from Woodbury; he'd hate them all watching him. They'd all say whatever words they wanted to, _if_ they could find the words to say. Then Rick would….he'd send Daryl to be with Merle.

Those two Dixons would give heaven hell.

Rick only wished that he knew where Merle's body was so he could lay Daryl with him. Those two had been through so much in life together it felt wrong that they should be separated in death. And that was what Daryl had ever wanted: To be with his brother. There was that blood—that bond, and it couldn't be broken even if Merle was trash. There was no mistaking Merle cared for Daryl and he was probably the only person Merle actually loved. They needed to be together. If anything, they could bury Daryl outside the fence near the woods. He'd be near enough to them there. They'd stand an arrow in the ground to mark his place. Rick would keep the crossbow—maybe not ever use it, but it'd keep Daryl close. It would be like he was still there watching over them.

It wasn't fair. Daryl was their guardian angel and angels aren't supposed to die.

Rick's throat developed a large lump that he couldn't swallow down. No matter what happened, Daryl was eventually going to die. They were just delaying the inevitable with keeping him alive now, maybe making his suffering worse later on. He'd been lucky at the farm—too lucky—and he was always going out hunting alone and accidents did happen. They'd never be able to track him down. At best they'd find his walker body clinging to the prison fence one day and at least then know his fate. Maybe it would be better if they….

Rick raised himself from the floor and moved to stand next to Daryl. He pushed the blankets away to expose Daryl's chest. Rick had to remind himself that he was just sleeping. Daryl's color hadn't improved and Hershel said it'd take several days to do so. Rick tried to ignore the scars he saw but it just reiterated his point that Daryl had already been through so much. The man probably never had an easy day in his life.

Rick closed his eyes as he placed his hand over Daryl's heart. He had to be sure it was still beating, and it was. Their guardian angel lived.

"_Rick?_" asked Carol after intently watching the sheriff stand over Daryl for longer than she felt comfortable with. "Is something wrong?"

Rick looked at Carol through misted eyes. He withdrew his hand from Daryl and replaced the blanket over him. "I, I need…" he started to say then left the rest hanging in the air. He walked between Maggie and Hershel at the entrance of the cell and over to the stairs. He climbed silently, even his heavy boots making less sound than usual. He arrived at the second level of cells and walked into the only unoccupied one—Daryl's cell. Someone, probably Glenn, had placed Daryl's crossbow on his cot. Someone else, Beth or perhaps Sasha, had cleaned and dried Daryl's clothes and left them folded next to the bow. It was like they were waiting for him to come back.

The bed creaked as Rick sat down. He sighed as he thought of the day he'd brought the new crossbow back from Morgan's armory. Daryl had tried his hardest to remain emotionless when he accepted the weapon. He had said his old one was getting too worn and this one would be more powerful. Then he turned and ducked his head before anyone could see him smile.

Rick leaned back against the wall to make himself more comfortable. One of his hands just barely slipped under Daryl's pillow and his fingertips brushed against cool metal. Frowning slightly, Rick lifted the pillow. Underneath was Merle's knife. So Daryl had been back to give Merle some type of burial. Rick almost wished Daryl had asked him to go with him. He could have helped with the task and properly thanked Merle for his sacrifice.

Rick heard footsteps approach and he set the pillow back down over the knife. He looked up to see Carl hovering on the outside of the cell. Behind him, day was beginning to break through the windows. "Sorry Daryl got hurt," mumbled the boy.

"Yes," began Rick, "he'd appreciate your concern. It was-"

"It was your fault," blurted Carl. "You know that right? Everything that has happened to us has been because of you and what you _won't_ do. Why won't you just kill the Governor? You keep letting him get away and he'll just keep coming back."

Rick mentally tried to deflect the low blow but it still hit near its intended mark. "Carl, you weren't there, you wouldn't understand what it was like. You don't know how to deal with these things."

"Obviously neither do you," shot Carl. "Maybe Daryl should die for you to get the point."

Within a heartbeat, Rick was on his feet; the sudden movement causing his ribs to groan in agony. "Carl you can't..." Rick paused to grab his breath, "you can't want that."

Carl shook his head and looked at his boots. "I didn't say I wanted him to die. I said he should die: Whatever it takes for you to understand the Governor can't live."

"This isn't up for discussion," said Rick closing in on his son.

"Whatever," said Carl as he turned to leave. He looked at his father once more but couldn't hold the sheriff's intense gaze. Rick watched Carl trot down the stairs and listened to his steps as he left the cell block.

It was too much.

Rick sank into Daryl's bed and covered his eyes with his arm. He had a rebelling son. A best friend that was dying or had come close to dying. General discord in the prison. More mouths to feed from Woodbury. Walkers to kill. And an extremely dangerous man running loose that wanted nothing more than to kill everyone in the prison. Why couldn't they have one good day? Why was that too much to ask for?

* * *

A/N: Thank you again for all the the reviews I've gotten so far. I really try to listen to what you say and recommend. Therefore, if you see something wrong or that isn't working, please let me know. Likewise if there's something you want more of, you can suggest that too. There are also a lot of readers lurking in the shadows and I want to hear from you! Don't make me introduce the world's most annoying Mary Sue. I'll do it! I will! (Not really-but you get the idea).


	15. Payback

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine.

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

The prison moved quietly around Daryl. One day was painfully dragged into two as Daryl continued to sleep with no change for the better or worse. An old woman from Woodbury had come forward with the information that her sister had O negative blood before she died, and though she wasn't sure of her own blood type, maybe it was the same and could be used to help Daryl. Hershel thanked the woman but knew if she was wrong, it'd be certain death for Daryl.

Carol rarely left Daryl's bedside. Occasionally Maggie or Beth would tear her away and take her to get some fresh air. There wasn't much Rick could be doing with three broken ribs so he hung around to watch Daryl as well. Hershel was never more than a minute away and would hurry in whenever someone got over anxious and said Daryl was waking. But he'd spend a few minutes checking Daryl's breathing and pulse and come up with the same conclusion: He needed more time. He had arrived in a right sorry state and without Rick's quick thinking, would be dead. The hunter wasn't going to go down without a fight, and he was putting up a particularly strong one.

The weather fortunately afforded them a small blessing. The rain had softened the grounds so the prison could start work outside. It went without discussion that Carl took over their farming operations. The boy wanted to lead them so they let him. He would still report back to Hershel for advice and Mr. Mason from Woodbury was more than happy to put in his two cents. They started to plow the field and get it ready for planting in a few weeks time. The idea to build a greenhouse was not forgotten so Mr. Mason drew up some plans for Tyreese and Glenn. They decided to make do with what was around the prison instead of risking another run. Soon the sounds of hammers and hoes breaking soil replaced the mild bickering from the group. Even the very old and young found small ways to help. They would turn it into a home yet.

But Daryl wasn't awake to see the progress the others were making. Rick wasn't deaf; he heard the whispers from Woodbury saying it was dangerous to keep him around everyone. He heard the clanging of cell doors being shut at night because they feared Daryl would die and turn into a walker while they slept. Even Beth with her infinite optimism was looking run down. One way or another, something had to happen with Daryl.

On the third night, Rick awoke from his makeshift bed against the opposite wall of Daryl's cell. Maggie had brought in a candle before she went to bed and it was still burning, casting flickering light against the solemn cell walls. Rick saw that Carol was again there next to Daryl. She had fallen asleep with her head resting on the bed near his leg, one of her hands holding his.

Rick took a step forward and pressed his hand against Daryl's forehead. He wasn't prepared for it when he was met with a pair of bright blue eyes glaring up at him. Rick immediately withdrew his hand because Daryl's face seemed to say "the hell ya doin' Grimes—back off." Rick covered his own mouth to suppress a small sob of joy. He really hadn't been expecting that one.

"Got somethin' to drink?" asked Daryl, sounding exhausted. "Didn't want to wake either of you," he explained quietly as Rick opened a bottle of water. Rick helped Daryl take the bottle with his free hand and raise it to his mouth where he took a few shaky sips. Daryl ran his tongue over his cracked lips and drank again. It was a slow process, but eventually he emptied the bottle.

"How do you feel?" asked Rick taking the bottle back.

"Like shit," said Daryl.

Rick smiled. At least Daryl was being honest. "Well you've been out for almost three days," said Rick. Daryl started blankly up at him like the knowledge was nothing new. "Gave us all a pretty good scare."

Daryl's mouth remained set as he looked from Rick and then onto Carol's sleeping form. Rick saw Daryl's fingers twitch slightly against Carol's hand. The hunter seemed almost content with the situation. Without another word he closed his eyes and his face relaxed. Rick let out a satisfied sigh and stepped back. He was almost going to leave the cell when Daryl's eyes flew open again. He started to shift and squirm uncomfortably under the blankets as he tried to maneuver away from Carol.

"What's wrong?" asked Rick in surprise. "She's been like that almost the whole time…_Oh_…" let out Rick as he recognized the problem. Daryl was naked under the blankets and that wasn't sitting with him so well. "Yeah…she's already seen it," he said trying not to laugh.

Rick's words killed Daryl's fidgeting. He looked up at Rick with murder in his eyes, daring the other man to laugh. Rick couldn't help it and he burst into a good throaty chuckle that had Carol stirring. Daryl pressed his head deeper into the pillow apparently trying to dissolve into the bed.

Carol straightened and rubbed her eyes. "What's going on?" she asked, having not noticed Daryl was awake. "Is everything ok?"

"Just fine," snickered Rick. "What do you say, Daryl?"

Daryl had nothing to say as Carol's attention was suddenly focused on him. Her eyes lit up and a wide grin replaced the days of worry on her drawn face. Daryl had a hard time meeting her eyes and he pressed his lips into a thin line. "Oh Daryl…" she breathed and pulled him to her. Rick saw every muscle in Daryl's body go rigid when the sheet slipped down his chest and Carol's hands found their way onto his scarred back. "I'm sorry," sniffed Carol as she released him. "I'm just so happy you're better. Everyone is going to be so relieved."

"That they will be," said Rick giving Carol's shoulder a squeeze. "I think I'll give you two a moment together. I'll get Hershel: He'll want to know you're awake, Daryl."

Rick had to turn quickly so Daryl wouldn't see him start to laugh again. That's what he got for always running off on his own…being a lone wolf.

Daryl, much to his utter displeasure, was confined to bed rest for another two days. Apparently the prison had wised-up and someone was always around to make sure he didn't leave the cell. He figured he could get by Beth but then Carol had come in to back her up. He'd been inside for five days (though he was only aware of the last two) and it was eating at him. He was itching to get back to his crossbow—he wanted to get his strength back. He also noticed that the food that was brought in had less and less meat to it meaning they were getting low. The weather was warming and the animals would be moving again. He needed to get outside.

The next morning, Daryl took his first steps outside the cell. He was still woozy but fought against it. If anyone from the prison even sniffed a hint of weakness in him, Daryl knew they'd push him right back in the cell and lock the door. He made his way over to the rest of the prison where they were having breakfast. He cursed himself at not getting there earlier. All eyes were on him as he walked in: Woodbury and those from his group. He gave them a general nod and made his way to where Sasha was serving the food. He took a small bowl of whatever it was, and headed for the door. Rick virtually materialized out of thin air in front of Daryl, blocking his path.

"Just gonna go eat outside. It's too crowded in here," said Daryl as he threw a glance over his shoulder. Rick seemed to understand and let him pass.

Daryl finished his bowl by the time he made it to his cell and discarded it. He pulled Merle's knife from under his pillow and turned it once over in his hands. It was pretty sharp, made more for thrusting and not cutting, but Daryl thought it'd suit his needs since he lost his own knife. He wrapped some duct tape around one end of it to give it a better handle. When he was satisfied, he made a crude sheath for it out of an old leather jacket and attached it to his belt. Now he was ready and his crossbow was waiting for him. He wasn't going to do much—just patrol the fences, take down a few easy walkers….maybe see if there were any deer not too far into the woods…

Daryl ducked out of the cell block and headed for the gates. He had to hold the prison keys quiet against his leg so they wouldn't draw too much attention. Although he didn't stop to inspect the work, he did applaud at the way the field was being prepared for crops. Maybe in a few months they'd have some fresh fruits and vegetables. Wouldn't be as many to eat with Woodbury around….

Daryl reached for the lock on the gate; freedom was on the other side. But a whistle from above stopped him cold: Rick was watching him. The other man whistled again and made a gesture for Daryl to come back.

"Daryl…I know you're not stupid so what the hell are you doing?" asked Rick when Daryl joined him.

Daryl squinted as he tried to come up with something to get Rick off his ass. "I saw a couple of walkers…gonna go take care of 'em before they pile up on the fences."

"I'll come with you," said Rick. "Or did you have something else planned?"

Well he couldn't bullshit his way out of this one. "Gettin' low of fresh meat in there," said Daryl quietly.

Rick's face fell. "Daryl," he said taking a step closer, "you're hurt and you do so much already. I can't ask you to do any more."

Daryl unconsciously rubbed at the bandage on his neck. "Yeah well ya can and ya should. I woulda died if it wasn't for ya."

Rick was taken aback by Daryl's honesty. That was probably the closest he was ever going to get to an actual thank you. "Alright," sighed Rick, "but I'm not going to let you do anything stupid…alone."

Rick clapped his hand on Daryl's shoulder and left the prison yard together. They soon disappeared into the thick forest, leaving only the faintest trail behind.

* * *

A/N: That was a little lighter of a chapter. Probably not the best idea for them to leave...And from what I've gathered, y'all don't like Carl. Interesting.

As always, thanks for reading!


	16. Limits

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

"Oh great the two injured ones are going out alone," exclaimed Carol as she pointed towards the trees. "Please tell me you don't approve of this."

Rick and Daryl's departure hadn't gone as unnoticed as they thought. Carol, Hershel, Maggie, Glenn, and Tyreese had come outside just as they slipped into the woods.

"I can't say that I approve," said Hershel warily, "but I don't have the say to stop them."

"Maggie and I can follow them," said Glenn and Carol smiled but Maggie shook her head.

"I'm not sneaking up on Daryl," she laughed causing Carol to frown at her lack of luck.

"They can't be going too far if they're on foot. I know the Governor; he's not going to attack in broad daylight, especially after he just lost some of his men," said Tyreese, crossing his arms. Carol still didn't look appeased and shifted her gaze across the line of trees. "Look, they've both been inside the prison the last couple of days, especially Daryl…They probably need some fresh air…"

A silent understanding was passed through the small group at Tyreese's words: Daryl and Rick had some things to sort out for themselves. Rick was battling an unruly teenage son and shouldering the majority of responsibility for the prison, while it appeared like Daryl hadn't quite come to terms with Merle's death.

"They just need some time," concluded Tyreese. "It's probably best that we don't say anything and keep doing what we're doing here."

"Alright, well let's get back to work," said Glenn. He gave Maggie a quick kiss and waved at Tyreese to walk with him to the greenhouse they were building. Maggie and Carol fell in with the steady stream of Woodbury workers heading into the field while Hershel held back to watch the actions of both groups.

The Georgia sun climbed higher into the sky and the cool morning became unseasonably warm. Work around the prison began to slow as extra layers of clothing were shed and more runs were made in for water. By the time Sasha and Beth called everyone in for lunch, there wasn't a shirt that didn't have a ring of sweat around the neck or arms. Most took it with a grain of salt: that they were fortunate enough to have lasted this long. The elderly from Woodbury were wilting faster than the young from the prison and migrated back to their cells. Some emerged for another round of work after a decent nap while others were content to call it a day.

There was no sign of Rick or Daryl. Michonne decided to try to pick up their trail after lunch but said she wouldn't stray too far into the woods after them. What those two could be doing was beyond anyone at the prison. They didn't take any food or water with them, nor were they armed with anything other than Daryl's crossbow and Rick's revolver. And as Carol emphasized on more than one occasion, both were hurt. "The problem is that they're too proud and stubborn to admit it," she was telling Maggie and Beth. "Rick is running around with three broken ribs and Daryl has only gotten out of bed this morning."

"Daddy would've sent someone after them if he thought they were going to get hurt," said Beth.

"I know," replied Carol. "It's just that—"

"We feel better knowing where they are," cut in Maggie with a smile. "If they're gone for another hour, Glenn and I will go look for them."

"Thank you," said Carol with tears threatening to spill from her eyes. Finally she had someone on her side. "Why don't we talk about something else? How about your wedding Maggie?"

Maggie crinkled her nose but still smiled. "Glenn has been making it into a bigger deal than it needs to be," she sighed.

"Well it should be a big deal!" cried Carol. "We don't have many things to celebrate these days. We can get you a dress—" Both Maggie and Beth snorted at Carol's proposition. Carol looked between the sisters in confusion. "What?"

"Not you too," groaned Maggie. "That's the same thing Glenn said. We're not going to make a run for a wedding dress. And no I'm not going to ask you or anyone else to make me one," she added after seeing Carol's wounded look.

"I think it would be nice to have it after our first round of crops are ready," said Beth and Maggie brightened at the suggestion. "Gives us more to be thankful for."

Maggie mumbled something like "never thought I'd get married in a prison" and focused on the ground she was turning.

"I am your maid of honor, right?" asked Beth, not wanting to drop the talk of the impending nuptials.

Maggie planted her shovel in the ground and wiped her brow. "No, I was going to ask Daryl," she said with an attempt at seriousness. "I'm sure he would love-"

A cry for help overshadowed the rest of what Maggie was going to say. The three women dropped their tools and looked wildly about.

"Where did that come from?" asked Carol, concern creeping into the contours of her face.

"It sounded like it came from the cell blocks," said Beth taking a step forward.

* * *

Rick and Daryl picked their way through the woods in near silence. They just sort of walked along, not bothering with the few walkers unless they had to. Both shared a strong sense of curiosity in anything other than conversation. Occasionally they'd stop and Daryl would point out an animal's burrow or tracks, that being the majority of words between them. Sometimes Rick would find himself unknowingly leading Daryl, other times he'd fall several paces behind. Their gait was slow enough that neither felt the effects of their injuries, though Rick cringed when Daryl took them off a deer's trail and had him ducking under a low tree.

They had been gone for several hours when Daryl was finally able to spot the deer they had apparently been tracking for a good distance. Rick admitted to himself that he would never have spotted doe nor realized they had even been on its trail. He needed to learn a few things in case something happened to Daryl and they lost their best hunter and tracker.

Rick watched Daryl move into position to take his shot at the deer. He appeared to load his crossbow without trouble meaning he had gotten most his strength back. Daryl raised his crossbow, and Rick saw something flicker across Daryl's face and then the bow was lowered.

"Pregnant," Daryl said with a shrug. "Not gonna shoot it unless we gotta."

"I didn't know you were such a softie," laughed Rick.

"Ain't that," said Daryl as he gestured back at the doe with an arrow, "we need more of 'em around here—won't do us any good to kill a fawn."

Rick was struck with an idea as Daryl put the arrow back in the quiver. "What if we rounded up some? Get them into the field at the prison. It'd keep them safe from walkers and we wouldn't have to go out after them."

"Did ya forget what happened on Hershel's farm? All those cows attracted the walker that killed Dale. Gotta bunch a deer around is gonna be the same thing." Daryl bent over to examine another set of tracks in the dirt. "Hell, we've got enough people already…I bet adding Woodbury made us smell like an all-you-can-eat buffet," he said sourly.

Daryl straightened and started on a course somewhat back towards the prison.

"Hey—" Rick said as he caught Daryl's shoulder and spun him around. "I've got enough problems coming from Carl. Now you need to get somethin' through your head: Woodbury is staying."

Daryl threw Rick's arm off and continued walking. He made it another three steps before Rick was there in his face again. Daryl rolled his eyes in frustration and tried to sidestep Rick but to no avail. "Grimes, ya better move," he warned.

"No," said Rick flatly as he planted himself in front of Daryl. "You're the only one that has showed any resistance with letting them in and I need to know why."

"Ya wanna know why?" asked Daryl loudly. "'Cause they're the Governor's people. They ain't our people."

Rick moved in closer. Daryl responded by raising his crossbow slightly so the tip was sticking into Rick's stomach in an attempt at keeping him back. "They're our people now," said Rick as he pushed the crossbow away. He wasn't going to be intimidated by an unloaded weapon. "Can you comprehend that?"

Daryl wasn't stupid. He knew when someone was talking down to him. He, however, was going to let Rick get away with that one. "I don't like 'em…live with it," he said to Rick and tried to move between him and the nearest tree.

Rick was having none of it. They weren't going back to the prison until they had this issue resolved. Rick caught Daryl's shirt just before he was out of reach and turned Daryl back to him. "I'm gettin' real tired of you turning your back on me when I'm trying to talk to you. Now, what is your problem with Woodbury?"

Rick could see something brewing in the blue eyes across from him. He'd been around Daryl long enough to know the best way to get anything out of him was to keep pushing him for it. Eventually his limit would be reached and he'd give in out of irritation. Rick guessed he had about thirty more seconds before he hit that point. "Is it the food situation or the fact that they're not physically able to help us?"

"I don't have to tell ya shit," growled Daryl as he leaned closer Rick. "Seems like Carl is the one runnin' the show. Maybe I should report to him."

Rick knew he was close to hitting Daryl's limit but had no idea the redneck had just pushed him over his own.

Rick took a moment to assess the pain his futures actions were about to cause and found it to be tolerable. He balled his fist into Daryl's shirt and drove him a step backwards into the nearest tree. Daryl's head hit the trunk hard enough to knock some pieces of bark off. Rick didn't give him time to recover before he pulled his crossbow away and tossed it to the side. Daryl made to lunge after the weapon and Rick caught him around the middle and took them both to the ground. He didn't land on his broken ribs but the collision still shook him. He heard Daryl stifle a gasp and then flail wildly: He was trying to draw his knife but his arm was pinned under him.

Rick quickly moved to straddle Daryl while he still had the advantage and centered his weight over Daryl's stomach. Daryl protested the movement and tried to buck Rick off and even tried to knee him in the back of his head but Rick hung on. He could see the pain in Rick's face as his hurt ribs were being jostled about: Daryl wasnt feeling too good himself. He decided Rick wasn't really fighting fair so he wasn't going to either. Daryl found his free hand and rammed it as hard as he could into Rick's injured side. The move sent Rick into a coughing fit and had him doubled over. It wasn't enough to dislodge him though and Daryl readied himself to make another hit.

Rick would have sworn his entire chest was on fire. Of course the redneck was going to take a cheap shot. But that had been something he told himself to prepare for so the hit wasn't completely unexpected. He wasn't going to allow a second one though. Daryl was predictable in that once he found something that worked, he tended to stick with it. So Rick felt Daryl's body tense as he moved to strike him again and was able to grab his wrist before his hand made contact. He held so tight he could feel Daryl's pulse racing under his fingers. He forced Darryl's arm back into the dirt and held it there. Rick shifted his weight on Daryl and pressed his knee down between his rib cage. The redneck let out a mixed cry of pain and surprise and his thrashing lessened.

"The hell ya doin'...yer supposed to be hurt," Daryl said between his short breaths.

Rick sighed but didn't let up any. "So are you...Now, answer my question and we can call it a day."

"I think the two of you need to call it a day right now," said a woman's voice from beside Rick and Daryl. Both men turned their heads and saw a katana being slid into view. Michonne pressed the tip lightly in Rick's shoulder, telling him to get off the redneck. Rick eased back until he was able to roll of Daryl and take to his feet, Michonne's unwavering eyes following every movement. He looked down on Daryl and offered him a hand. Daryl snorted and slapped it away.

"I'm fine," he spat, standing unaided.

"Next time the two of you decide to have a wrestling match, do it inside the prison," said Michonne as she pushed between Rick and Daryl. "I'm tired of keeping track of your asses."

* * *

A/N: Thank you again to everyone who continue to read (and even better-review). Like I've said before, I'm always interested to know what you think.


	17. Carl's Call

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

**A/N**: Ok, this chapter is not nice. It's not graphic or anything like that, it's just pretty rough. Just wanted to warn you. Additional note at the end.

* * *

Panic spread through the prison like wildfire. The field was rapidly abandoned as the workers rushed up through the gate and towards the cell blocks. No one could be quite certain who was yelling or for what reason. The only thought that passed through many of their minds was that Tyreese was wrong and the Governor was making a house call.

"It's got to be him," said Carol as she ran with Maggie and Beth. The three joined up with Hershel inside the gate where Glenn, Tyreese, Karen, and Sasha found them a moment later. Carl was not far behind either and had already drawn his gun.

"Who's hurt?" asked Glenn. He quickly gave the women from the field a once over to make sure it wasn't them.

"It wasn't us," said Maggie in a shaky voice. "I thought it was coming from your group."

"No," said Tyreese shaking his head, "we thought it was one of you. It's not the Governor; we would have seen or heard—"

Another wild scream that was laced with the cries from the small children filled the air. The group immediately began to move with military like precision towards the cell block. They could tell the doors had been propped open to allow air to circulate through the prison. "Walkers?" asked Sasha.

"There's no way they could get in here," said Glenn as he led the group forward. "We've cleared the prison."

The group had advanced a little farther when several children burst from the doors and darted hysterically in every direction away from the building. Karen and Sasha split from the others and ran to corral the kids and bring them back to the adults. They ushered them forth and carried the ones that were too distraught to get closer to the prison on their own.

"What's going on honey?" Sasha asked the small girl she was holding. "Why are you so scared?"

The girl couldn't answer and buried her face in Sasha's neck. The other children hastily chewed on their thumbs and clung to the nearest adults.

"One of those things is in there," came the petrified voice of a brown haired boy that was attached to Maggie's leg.

"A walker?" demanded Glenn. The boy attempted to nod and wrapped his fingers in the fabric of Maggie's jeans. "Did it bite you? Any of you?"

The kids sniffed but shook their heads. The adults quickly bent down to inspect the children better. They rolled up sleeves and pants legs just to make sure none of them had been attacked.

"They're ok," concluded Glenn, "but how did a walker get in? We've sealed off the parts that weren't secure."

"Do you think someone let one in?" asked Carol.

"I think we need to go kill it," said Tyreese. "We can worry about where it came from later."

Maggie knelt to the level of the boy next to her. "Sweetie, do you think you can tell us where it was?"

The boy pointed towards the cell block with a shaking hand. "In with the cells. It looked like Mr. Thomas."

The adults collectively had their stomachs fall. One of the elderly men from Woodbury was named Thomas. That was a blow they did not see coming. They, and especially Rick, had promised the people of Woodbury that the prison was safe. Safe was beginning to look like a relatively loose term. They now had two walkers to deal with and then find out how the first one got in.

"What's going on over here?" asked one of the old women from Woodbury. She along with some of the elderly emerged out of D block where they had been beginning to relocate to.

"What do we do?" asked Maggie and the group leaned in to discuss their options. "We can't just tell them someone got bit…we were supposed to protect them."

"It's not like we can hide it," said Carol. "It'll be pretty obvious."

"I've got this," said Tyreese. "I know these people pretty well. It should come from me."

"No, it should come from me."

Carl moved to the center of the group and looked up at the adults, his eyes eager.

"Rick left me in charge when he's not here—I'll tell them."

Before anyone could say a word or lift a finger to stop Carl, he was off towards the Woodburians. "Hey!" he called out.

The group of the elderly shifted uneasily as the boy hastily approached.

"What's going on?" repeated the same woman as before. "We heard yelling."

"Someone got bit and turned," said Carl simply, like having a walker attack in the prison was a commonplace thing. There were gasps and frantic moves by the men to protect the women from the danger. "They're still inside so just stay here and I'll take care of it."

A couple of Woodburians tried to ask who and how it happened but fell short. They were lacking the same experience with walkers that the prison had. The Governor had kept them sheltered away and so having walkers lurking around them was a new experience. Some hadn't even properly seen one in months. Most had never killed one.

"Is there nothing that can be done?" questioned Mr. Mason. "The Governor was working on a cure or something"

"Once you turn that's it," said Carl. He twisted around and marched towards C block intent on taking out the walkers himself. It had to be him. The way he figured it, the others had gone too soft and wouldn't be able to anymore.

"Carl wait!" cried Maggie. Carl threw her an annoyed look and kept walking. He made it to the doors and then faded into the darkness. Those remaining outside melded into one large group and cringed at the thought of what was happening inside. It was different when one of their own had to be put down. Although Thomas hadn't been with them for very long, he was still one of them. He had woken up just like everyone else in the morning and been a living person and now he wasn't.

"It'll be fast," said Hershel trying to add some words of comfort, "and once someone turns, they won't even know it."

The Woodburians tried to act like they understood but still looked grave.

"Did he uh…have family?" asked Glenn after a long moment of silence.

"No," said Mr. Mason. "He was always a bit of a loner."

That was something to be thankful for, thought Glenn. Hopefully Thomas's death would be easy enough to move on from and not cause prolonged grief.

Everyone continued to mill about while waiting for Carl to return. The elderly sat hunched together, a few tears trickling from tired eyes. Karen was feeding Judith from a bottle. Maggie and the other women worked to soothe the children while Hershel, Glenn, and Tyreese passed a few quiet words between them.

They guessed it was ten minutes later when they heard Carl's footsteps approach. He appeared at the door looking downcast. "I uh could only find Thomas…I couldn't find the one that bit him," he admitted lowly.

"We won't be safe until we do," said Glenn. "We'll take a group in and clear every room until we find it. Then we'll see how it got in."

Maggie moved away from the children and over to Glenn. "Don't you think we should wait for Rick?" she whispered. "There might be a larger herd that broke through somehow and we'll need—_oh no_…"

Maggie's last words were even quieter than a whisper.

A small grey haired woman emerged from the cell block clutching at her shoulder that was stained with blood. Her shirt and the skin underneath it were shredded. She'd been bitten.

"Mary are you ok?" asked Mr. Mason coming forward to help the woman. "Did you fall?"

Did she fall? Glenn and Maggie simultaneously reached for the other's hand to keep from blurting anything out. Of course she didn't fall. Your shoulder wouldn't be missing a chunk from it unless you fell on a pack of razor blades.

The woman, Mary, didn't appear to hear Mr. Mason nor respond to his attempt to help her. She gently pushed by him and sat on one of the steps then sighed.

"Well that was really a silly thing to do," she almost laughed. "I knew Thomas didn't quiet look right…had to go check on him though, didn't I? I always felt sorry for him…he didn't have anyone but I guess most of us don't have anyone anymore…" She moved the hand from her shoulder and wiped the blood off on her skirt. "It hurts more than I thought it would. But I survived having six children; I think I can survive this."

"Yes, yes you will," said Mr. Mason as he took her hands in his. "They can help you. They helped Hershel." He looked to the vet for reassurance. "Right?"

Hershel pressed his lips together and his eyes fell to the ground.

"There's only one cure for her now," stated Carl, the tip of his gun twitched slightly towards Mary so his meaning would not be lost. Those standing nearest him took a step back. "It's the only way."

"No…no!" cried Mr. Mason as he caught on. "There has to be another way…something you can do…"

Carl's grip on the gun tightened, his eyes narrowing on his target. "She's dangerous," he said devoid of all emotion. Maggie cast a nervous glance at Glenn and whispered something in his ear. Glenn's eyes widened and he seemed to agree with what he was just told. He left Maggie's side and slipped away from the group and broke into a run for the woods.

"She's not dangerous! I've seen people bit before and nothing happened to them! You can't just shoot her when she might not turn!" objected Mr. Mason.

"That's a lie," hissed Carl. "When you die you turn. When you get bit, you turn."

"I won't let you," said Mr. Mason as he took a faulty step between Mary and Carl. "Your father won't have this."

"He's not here!" yelled Carl, brandishing his gun at Mr. Mason. "And if he was, he'd side with me. She's—" he pointed towards Mary, "_dangerous_."

Mary began to sob uncontrollably which had another woman from Woodbury rush to her. Mr. Mason stayed firmly where he was to stare down Carl. "If you want to shoot her, you have to shoot through me."

"I can do that," said Carl as he aimed the gun at the man.

"What the hell are you doing?" roared Tyreese as he rushed forward. His large hands wrapped around Carl's smaller wrist and twisted it until the boy was forced to drop the gun or break his arm. The gun clattered on the pavement and Tyreese kicked it behind him with his boot. "Kid, have you lost your damn mind? You can't shoot him—or her!"

"She's been bit! It has to be done!" he protested angrily. "She a danger—"

"She is not a danger to anyone here!" cried Mr. Mason again.

Tyreese raised his hand to quiet the man. "Carl…it's not happening. We can't…" he dropped his voice and leaned in, "we can't shoot her in front of all these people when she hasn't turned. They aren't ready to see that, think about that."

Carl tried to wriggle out of Tyreese's hold but with no luck. "What, do you want her to suffer? Do you want to drag her death out? Because that is what will happen. I've seen it."

"Look Carl, you're just a kid," said Tyreese. "I've been in this world longer and—"

"No you haven't!" yelled Carl. "It's a different world now and we've been in it the same amount of time. It has to be done."

Carl pressed into Tyreese in an attempt at freeing his hand. Beth saw the struggle that was about to take place and rushed forward to pick up Carl's fallen gun. She quickly passed it off to Maggie who tucked it into the back of her pants.

"We're not doing anything about this until Rick is back," said Tyreese. "This is his call."

Carl glared up at Tyreese and then tried to elbow him in the stomach except Tyreese turned his hips and the hit missed him altogether.

"This is bullshit," Carl complained as he continued to work at getting away from Tyreese. "It doesn't matter who it is, they've got to be put down. They'll just turn and—"

A loud gunshot silenced Carl and smothered the simmering fight.

"That's Rick's gun," said Maggie excitedly. "Glenn's found them."

"Then this can wait," said Tyreese as he took charge of Carl's other arm. "Mr. Mason, please take Mary inside. We'll be in there shortly. Everyone else…why don't you wait inside D block for now? Then we can get this mess cleared up."

The people from Woodbury rushed to hide inside the other cell block and get out of the nightmare as soon as possible. Karen sent the children she was watching along with the other adults so she could help Mr. Mason move Mary. Tyreese remained in charge of Carl, despite the boy's best efforts to get loose. Hershel, along with his daughters and Carol moved farther back to give them some room. Sasha remained ready to aid Tyreese if he needed it although the altercation had barely caused the man to break a sweat.

Another thirty seconds passed and Carl seemed to calm down: He hung his head and appeared to accept his position. Tyreese looked down at his hands and frowned. He hadn't meant to do it but he'd been a bit too rough with the boy and his arms had turned red in places. Tyreese sighed and loosened his grip slightly.

"Oh thank goodness," cried Carol suddenly. "They're back!"

Everyone turned to see Glenn leading Rick, Daryl, and Michonne in a full out sprint towards them. They could only guess at what Glenn had been able to say to Rick. Whatever it was, it was enough to have Rick visibly furious from far away.

Knowing Rick had arrived on the scene and would take over things, Tyreese relaxed and completely released his hold on Carl. Carl took one look at his father and the three flanking him and bolted like frightened deer.

* * *

**A/N**: Like I said, that's rough. There are a couple of things I want to say real quick. The first is thank you for reading and dropping any reviews/favorites/follows. Next I just want to make sure no one absolutely destroys me for making Carl go a bit dark. I'm not trying to predict what will happen in the next season, but I want to keep the characters fairly consistent with who they are on the show (hence the reason Daryl hasn't fallen head over heels for some Mary Sue). I love writing and it's neat to think that maybe you guys get a few minutes of entertainment out of this every day. If you have been enjoying the story and something is bothering you, let me know and I can work with (to an extent). Also, sorry to anyone that had a problem posting a review for the previous chapter. I had to delete the one with the author note and it messed up the numbering. All better now. Thank you!


	18. Explosion in the Cell Block

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. Comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

Michonne didn't know what caused Daryl and Rick's scuffle nor would she have cared any except they had dragged her into it. She knew they had been building up to it and maybe they just needed to work things out the old fashioned way. It didn't look like it had been too physical and mainly just Rick trying to have a civil conversation with the redneck that got out of control. Whatever it was, they didn't need to be doing it with both of them still recovering from their injuries.

The three made their way back to the prison without a single word. Rick and Daryl stomped along, clearly irritated with the other's presence. Michonne didn't want to get between them but figured it best to stay there. Unbeknownst to the men, Michonne had guided Rick to the front of the line and subsequently stuck Daryl at the back. Rick was their leader and Daryl needed to be reminded of that. Daryl had two options: One, if he was unhappy with the situation, then he could find his own way back to the prison at his leisure, or he could submit and accept his place in the pack. There was no room for two alpha males and Daryl could go off and do his lone wolf stuff if that suited him better.

Daryl had chosen the second option though he made his sentiments about it known. Every twig that snapped under his boots was loud and deliberate and reminded Rick that he was back there but he wasn't thrilled about it. Daryl was trying to keep his head clear about the whole thing because it just fueled his growing discontent with the prison. Everyone was always in his business. He tried to go off for the morning for some alone time and ended up having to drag Rick along. Then the bastard basically attacked him and now he was going back without a deer and more agitated than he was before.

Daryl sighed heavily and adjusted the crossbow on his back: He'd given up on taking care of the walkers. Michonne would step out of their line and deal with any that got too close. For once he was looking forward to being back in the prison. There were places he could hide in there and nobody would find him…just too many damn people from Woodbury now.

The group stepped out from the woods and shielded their eyes as they were hit with the sun's full brightness. "Huh…" started Rick, "thought they'd be out working in the field with the nice weather."

"Probably too hot for 'em," grumbled Daryl at seeing the empty field. Rick drew in a deep breath and slowly released it to keep himself in check. Daryl was really pushing it today. "Looks like the kid doesn't mind gettin' in a good workout though."

Daryl pointed to Glenn who was running as fast as they'd ever seen into a section of the woods on their right. He gave the kid a shrill whistle and abruptly Glenn changed directions.

"_Rick! Shoot your gun!_" yelled Glenn. "_Shoot it!_"

Rick's hand quivered over his holster but he didn't draw his revolver. He looked to Michonne and Daryl and they were just as confused as he was. Glenn continued to race forward and bounced into Daryl as he tried to reach Rick.

"The hell ya—"

Glenn made it past Daryl and tore Rick's revolver from him. He pointed it over his head and fired. The shot had the other three scowling and cursing Glenn for temporarily ruining their hearing.

"Two from Woodbury bit," panted Glenn. "Lady hasn't turned yet…Carl trying to shoot her…they need to know you're back…" he explained and grabbed Rick to lead him to the prison.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. _Bit?_ How?" asked Rick.

Glenn shook his head. "Walker got in and bit another man…he turned and got her."

"How did a walker get in?" asked Michonne.

"Don't know that either," said Glenn. "But Rick, you've got to get up there. The lady is alive and Carl is trying to shoot her. They're arguing over it."

That was all Rick and the others needed to get going. He and Daryl both ignored whatever pain running was going induce and found speed they didn't even know they had. There was no way Carl was going to shoot someone that didn't want to be shot—that crossed every line they had.

They stormed through the prison gate and to the cell blocks and found their group was in a semi-circle around Tyreese who was holding Carl. A second later however, Tyreese released Carl and the boy split in the opposite direction.

"Michonne go after him!" shouted Rick. The woman veered away from Rick, Glenn, and Daryl to follow their little fugitive. The two groups met up halfway and Rick hunched over to catch his breath. His side was killing him and no thanks to Daryl either. "How did this happen?" he finally asked.

"A walker got into the cell block; we don't know how yet," explained Hershel with exceptional calmness, "it bit Thomas and he turned. Mary went to check on him and then he got her shoulder."

"Rick, Carl was just going to shoot her," said Carol as she pushed her way forward. "He kept calling her dangerous and was going to kill her right in front of everyone."

Daryl thought it best not to open his mouth at that moment and say that he agreed with Carl.

"Where are they now?" asked Rick.

"We've got all of Woodbury in D block but Mr. Mason and Mary are in C block," said Hershel.

Rick nodded and wiped the sweat from his face. He gave Hershel a squeeze on the shoulder as he walked into C block. Though they weren't officially invited, the rest of the group followed. They came across Mr. Mason and Mary not too far inside.

Mr. Mason forced a small smile when he saw that Rick had returned. "She got tired," he said apologetically, "I didn't want to move her much farther."

"That's fine—I understand," said Rick as he sat beside the woman. "How are you doing Mary?"

"She's rather warm," answered Mr. Mason.

Rick instinctively took one of Mary's hands and held it between his own. Her skin wasn't just warm but feverishly hot. The infection had set in and she was beyond help. She was beyond help to begin with: There'd be no way to save her from a bite on the shoulder. A bite on anything other than a limb was a death sentence.

"Your son…" sobbed Mary, "he said I'm dangerous. He wanted to shoot me. He pointed his gun at me and he…" Mary could explain no farther and was wracked with a fit of weeping uncontrollably.

Rick didn't know what to say. He looked to Daryl for advice but found his face to be stern and unforgiving. It wasn't like he cared: He hated these people. This was making his wishes come true. Even as he thought that, Daryl walked away and over to where appeared to be the body of Thomas. He didn't want to deal with this at all. "Mary…I want to apologize for my son. He's been acting horribly and it's my fault. I haven't been the father he's needed for a long time. He should never have done any of those things outside…"

"He's a teenager," sniffed Mary as she wiped at her eyes, "I raised six of them. It's something they do…I understand there's nothing you can do to help me?" she asked regaining her composure. Rick, along with the others were silent. "I was afraid of that after what Carl said…can I pick how…"

"Yes," said Hershel before anyone else could answer, "absolutely."

Mary smiled and nodded her head in understanding. "Well, if it's not too much trouble, I'd like to go home. I lived my whole life on a small farm not too far from here and I'd very much so like to see it one last time. I can take one of the cars and drive there myself. No one needs to come with me…I'd like it that way."

"I'll come with you," offered Mr. Mason.

"No, that won't be necessary. I'm sure the place is full of…well…it won't be like it was in its best days." Mary got to her feet with a little aide from Rick and Mr. Mason. "I don't want to say goodbye to anyone…I want to make it as easy as possible…I feel like I've been enough trouble as it is…"

"If that is what you would like," confirmed Rick solemnly. "We'll give you one of the cars."

"Thank you," said Mary. She looked once around the cell block and sighed. "Tell Carl I'm sorry for having to put him in a position like I did earlier…he really is a good kid."

Glenn handed Rick a set of keys to one of their extra cars. Mary smiled once more as she accepted them. Mr. Mason was trying to remain stoic but he couldn't dam up the tears any longer. They spilled over his brown eyes and into his scraggly beard. "It'll be ok," said Mary and gave him a swift kiss on the cheek before ambling out the doors.

"I'll um…go help her with the gates," said Karen as she brushed away tears of her own.

"Karen…" called Rick, "would you send everyone else over here…we need to have a talk about this."

Karen nodded and hurried on after Mary.

The prison collectively exhaled a breath they hadn't realized they were holding in.

"Wow," said Glenn summing up what everyone was thinking. "Let's not do that again."

"I told ya so," said Daryl roughly from over the body of Thomas. "Told ya this would happen."

Rick made a fist and pressed it into his forehead—it just wouldn't end. "Now what?" he snapped back. "Do you really have to make it worse than it needs to be? I've heard enough out of you today Daryl."

"Fine…guess ya can figure out on yer own that this guy wasn't bit." Daryl nudged Thomas with his boot and set his eyes on Rick. "Ain't any bite marks. He was as old as shit; probably had a heart attack."

"Who had a heart attack?" asked one of the other men from Woodbury as they came streaming back in. "Thomas had a heart attack?"

Rick and Hershel rushed forward to examine the body of Thomas. They rolled him over, unbuttoned his shirt, and looked for any signs of a walker's attack. Daryl, meanwhile, stood back and let the men learn for themselves what he had already known for the last ten minutes.

Daryl felt that Hershel and Rick took longer than necessary to decide that Thomas died of natural causes. The guy was ancient: He had it coming. They had secured the cell block so there never was a walker that attacked him. He probably overexerted himself in the heat and dropped dead. Nothing to it.

"He's right," said Hershel lowly. "No bites, no scratches…he must've just died, turned, and poor Mary came across him."

Rick rocked back on his heels to digest this new development. What were they going to do if someone died in their sleep? They could easily turn and attack anyone in the prison.

"Ya belive me now?" asked Daryl. "Told ya we should be lockin' 'em up at night."

Rick rose from the floor and advanced on Daryl. Daryl backed up and ended near the wall with the majority of the prison and Woodbury before him. "Hey—we are not locking anyone up. These are people, not animals." He stepped closer to Daryl and attempted to subtly corner him and isolate him from the others if things got violent. They sure as hell didn't need a stray arrow complicating their day.

Daryl scoffed and his signature scowl went up a notch. "Why the hell not? We took their asses in off the streets like a bunch of strays! It's like we're the damn pound. They don't belong here!"

Anger flooded Rick like a tidal wave crashing over a beach. What was this? Had Merle been reincarnated within Daryl? He stepped forward again and Daryl did as expected and responded with an equal step back.

"What is your problem?" snapped Mr. Mason. "You've been nothing but difficult to get along with from the moment we got here. We never did anything to you."

Daryl began to pace wildly within the limited space Rick allowed him. "_Never_…never huh?" growled Daryl, every muscle in his body tensing.

"Calm down Daryl," advised Rick.

"Go to hell Grimes!" yelled Daryl as he shoved him away with one arm. Rick took the blow and closed the distance again. "Ya know…I can forgive but I never forget so I sure as shit ain't gonna forget these people were baying for my blood back in Woodbury! Did ya forget about that?" he spat into Rick's face.

"_Daryl_—" Carol tried to plead but the man wasn't going to have any of it.

"Did ya forget the Governor put me and Merle in a ring together to kill each other? Not one 'em—" he waved his crossbow accusingly at the Woodbury residents, "tried to stop the Governor or to help us. Hell, they were _cheerin'_ for us to die. Ain't none of 'em sorry for it neither. It was just a game to 'em. Me and Merle didn't mean shit to 'em and we still don't!"

Rick's eyes took on a glassy appearance as he watched Daryl grow more and more unstable. He couldn't even blink because Daryl might seize the opportunity and strike out at the Woodburians.

"Don't think I didn't notice that none of 'em said sorry for 'im dying. He was the only one to do somethin' 'bout the Governor and ya forget him like he was trash..." Daryl paused a moment to let his words sink in as he looked to the faces of the people he once considered to be friends. None of them showed any sort of remorse; he thought half of them seemed dumb just standing there with their mouths wide open. They had forgotten about the arena. "So ya did forget. I never needed anyone feelin' sorry for me, but Merle was my _brother_—my blood—and they wanted me to kill 'im!" Daryl feigned a lunge towards Woodbury that had the adults sweeping the children behind them.

"ENOUGH!" yelled Rick when some of the children started to cry. "We can't change what happened but we—"

"But we can forget 'bout it, huh? Ya think I want 'em here? Ya think I like bein' reminded 'bout me and Merle every time I look at 'em? Or havin' to protect their asses when they didn't give a shit 'bout mine!" Daryl had to stop to catch his breath. He felt like an animal backed into a corner. Much more from him and he was going to have Rick, Glenn, and Tyreese on him. No one had his back. The only person that would was Merle. None of them cared.

Daryl's blue eyes grew cloudy as he searched the faces of the prison group once more. He sighed when he didn't find what he was looking for. "It always was just me and Merle…guess it's just me now."

Daryl turned his back and hastened out of the room so no one would see him wipe his eyes. His hand desperately sought Merle's knife and the only bond that was left between he and his brother.


	19. Blank Slate

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

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_Priorities_, thought Rick. What was the most important? What did he have to deal with first? The obvious choice was Daryl after the meltdown they were still reeling from. But Carl had threatened to kill a man and a woman. Then there was the issue of the other elderly dying in their sleep from old age and turning. That was enough to scare half the prison and alienate the other half that had to be locked up at night.

Never once had they tried to come up with a permanent solution to anything. Everything they had done was just a temporary fix—they were putting band aids on wounds that needed stitches.

_Carl, Daryl, or Woodbury?_

Rick was so taken into his own world that he didn't notice the reappearance of Michonne and Carl. Michonne guided the boy with a hand on his shoulder and placed him in front of Rick. The boy stared expectantly at his father, waiting for his punishment.

Rick clenched his hands in his hair as he reflected on the problems before him. It was inevitable that the elderly from Woodbury were likely to die. Just a few hours in the field had proved fatal for one member already. However Carl was becoming a mini-Shane, if ever there was one. Rick wasn't sure where he'd adopted the philosophy that a bullet was the answer to everything. If he wasn't careful, Carl was going to act too rashly and get someone killed. He certainly didn't earn himself any points with the Woodbury residents either, though he gave them less to worry about than Daryl did who was reverting back to his days at the quarry. No, it couldn't be forgotten what happened in the arena with Merle and Daryl, but they had to move on from it, they _had_ to.

So it was decided that Carl and Woodbury took precedence: Daryl was too hot-headed to deal with at the moment.

"There are two things that we all need to get straight right now," said Rick addressing the entire group. Carl's face brightened as he realized this may not be exclusively about him. "The first is unfortunately what Thomas and Mary showed us…that _any_ of us could die, turn, and attack someone. I think it will be in everyone's best interest from now on that we _all_ keep our cell doors shut at night—just to be safe. If you go into your cell during the day to sleep, close the door. It's the only safeguard against something like this happening again."

"Are you locking us up?" asked Mr. Mason angrigly.

"No, no," said Rick as he tried to clarify his meaning. "Just close your door because that could happen to any of us. That was something I had worried about with Daryl and why we had someone in there with him while he recovered."

"So are we going to talk about what Carl did too?" came Mr. Mason again.

Rick rubbed his eyes and nodded as best he could.

"I did what we needed to do!" protested Carl before Rick could say anything. "We have zero tolerance for walkers."

"Yes Carl you are right," said Rick calmly then turned to mainly the people from Woodbury. "I know most of you didn't have experience with walkers under the Governor. Maybe he said he was working on a cure but for now, there isn't any. Everyone that dies or gets bit turns into one of them. Hershel has been the exception."

"And a lucky one at that," said Hershel.

"That being said, anyone who gets bit will be able to decide the manner in which they choose to…be put down…" Rick flinched because he knew Woodbury would associate being put down with dogs and link that to what Daryl had said about them. "We are not going to simply shoot you on sight unless that is what you want. We let Mary take one of the extra cars and leave to go back to her farm since that is what she wanted."

"We have to be thankful that more people weren't hurt today," said Hershel evenly.

"Yes, and it goes without saying that Carl is very sorry for how he handled things..." Rick waited for Carl to pipe in with his apology but the boy only looked down at his feet. "We're not like that here," finished Rick.

Michonne gave Carl a quick jab with her elbow after Rick stopped talking: He needed to own up and take some responsibility for his actions. Carl responded with an exasperated glance up at her and muttered something unintelligible. "What was that?" pressed Michonne.

"I said I was sorry and it won't happen again!" Carl burst out. He looked hastily between the adults and then finally to Rick. "That's what you want to hear, right?"

"No, that's what we _need_ to hear," frowned Rick.

"Whatever," said Carl, shaking his head.

The others gawked as Carl was allowed to walk out of the cell block without another word from Rick.

"Hey uh Rick, can we talk for a minute?" asked Tyreese, stepping aside from the group. Rick nodded somberly and joined him a moment later. "Look man," said Tyreese dropping his voice, "I'm not one to tell a guy how to raise his kid but damn…you gotta do more than that."

"I'm trying…" said Rick as he leaned in, "_I am_. But I don't know where to begin with him. I don't know what he needs. I tried to give him more responsibility and leadership and that went to his head. I think we all need some more time to adjust to each other—same thing with Daryl."

"Daryl is a whole other issue," said Tyreese. "From what I've seen of Daryl, he's all bark and no bite. That's not the case with Carl. I mean, he _was_ going to shoot through Mr. Mason in order to kill Mary. We've got to keep this prison together…there has to be rules and leadership—not that I'm volunteering for the job," he added quickly.

What Tyreese was saying seemed to sink in with Rick. There had to be rules and everyone could do better with knowing who was in charge.

"So you probably shouldn't go running off anymore; not on supply runs or out into the woods. We all need you here, Rick. You've got these people's attention and they trust you. They aren't going to give you any resistance"

"I never wanted this," admitted Rick with a sigh.

"I know, and I'll back you up on whatever you need. We gotta take it one day at a time, starting with today," said Tyreese.

Rick smiled lightly in appreciation at Tyreese's advice. "One day?" he asked and Tyreese nodded. "Then let this be day one," he said to the cell block and he was met with more than one confused look from his audience. "We're starting overーa blank slate. Forget everything that happened before now. It's not going to do us any good if we sit around holding grudges against each other. We have to work together if we want to survive, and we will. We have to keep our heads about things and react justly. It cant be like with Carl and Daryl: They weren't thinking straight about either situation. We're not going to dwell in the past or on things we can't change. If you have a problem, any problem, talk to either me, Hershel or...Tyreese."

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A/N: I've been really disappointed with myself the last few days. This chapter ended up being a lot shorter than I initially intended it to be, plus I didn't get you guys an update sooner than this. I also wanted to address each review but that didn't happen. What can I say? Real life got in the way. However after a good sleep, I will fix those issues and next chapter will be back on track. So if there's anything you'd like me to talk about, drop it in a review. Thanks again for reading y'all, I appreciate everything you say.


	20. War and Whiskey

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

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**A/N:** Not to get y'all like super psyched for this chapter, but I really liked it. Basically when I finished it I went "I DARE YOU TO TOP THIS AMC!" Yeah...y'all might not feel the same but I'm happy with it.

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"_Then let this be day one…We're starting over—a blank slate. Forget everything that happened before now. It's not going to do us any good if we sit around holding grudges against each other. We have to work together if we want to survive, and we will. We have to keep our heads about things and react justly. It can't be like with Carl and Daryl: They weren't thinking straight about either situation. We're not going to dwell in the past or on things we can't change. If you have a problem, any problem, talk to either me, Hershel or...Tyreese._"

The prison was so caught up in Rick's speech that they didn't notice the shadow on the floor shift out of the doorframe. Daryl pressed his eyes closed and tried to keep his breathing under control while listening in: He had to hear what they were going to say behind his back. Everyone, including him, was supposed to just forget everything that happened. Forget about Merle and what occurred at Woodbury and move on. Act like it never happened and they'd get along perfectly fine. He just lost his brother, for almost no reason, and they all expected him to be ok with that. Did any of them ever come to say they were sorry? He'd been reprimanded for Merle's actions more than anything. They were glad he was gone—they didn't care. Merle was the thorn in their side that they finally got rid of.

Daryl wasn't even upset that Rick told them to go to Hershel and Tyreese if they had problems. He didn't want to deal with their petty shit. He didn't want to deal with any of it and certainly not get dragged into Rick's drama with Carl. The kid needed to get his ass kicked once and that'd set him straight. None of those men had the balls to do it but Daryl decided that was out of his jurisdiction as it fell well outside of the things he now cared about. He had survived this long virtually on his own, he could do it again.

And not one of them had come after him. Daryl stood on the other side of the wall waiting to hear the footsteps of someone—anyone—coming to ask if he was ok or needed anything. He thought if anyone would follow him it'd be Carol but he was wrong. He'd be annoyed by the presence of any of them, but at least it'd mean they cared.

Daryl continued to listen to the murmurings behind him hoping someone would walk through the door. There were no footsteps, no sound indicating he was going to be missed. Finally beaten, Daryl pushed off from the wall and set his crossbow where he had been standing. Maybe someone would find it and wonder, though probably not. In a daze, Daryl made his way to their supply room. It took him hardly any time to find one of the bottles of whiskey he salvaged from Woodbury. He had the top off without even looking at the brand and drank. He didn't care what it tasted like; he didn't really notice if it tasted like anything to begin with. All he wanted was to be so drunk that he didn't care about anything anymore.

Half the bottle was gone by the time Daryl made it to the generator room where he dropped into the shadows of one of the corners and sank into his misery. He figured what hurt the most was that he finally found people he actually cared for and now they'd turned against him. He never put his trust in anyone other than himself for that reason. This was why he never wanted to get close to people. He'd rather deal with the self-inflicted pain of pushing people away than let them in only to be betrayed later on. It happened all his life—the people he was closest to hurt him the most: There certainly wasn't any reason why it should stop now.

Why wasn't anyone trying to find him? He'd even take Carl wandering in aimlessly over the aloneness that settled into his bones. Were they worried he was going to kill the first person to come through the door? That was part of his reason for leaving his crossbow behind; so he wouldn't have that temptation. He wouldn't hit them, but maybe fire a warning shot past one of the dogs from Woodbury if they got too far into his business.

Daryl rolled the bottle of whiskey between his hands as he mulled over his options. It would be better to strike off and go at it alone. However, the prison was pretty well protected and they'd have good crops in a few months. There was the possibility of heading to the mountains and maybe finding another group. Walkers couldn't climb and he'd rather put up with them rather than any more people. He could go out to Woodbury and keep an eye for the Governor and pick him off if he ever returned. Maybe then the prison would appreciate his existence, not that'd he'd come back to them.

Maybe it was the whiskey messing with his head, but Daryl almost thought he heard footsteps approaching. He didn't have the energy nor did he care enough to look up to verify his suspicion. He felt more than he saw his crossbow being laid against his leg and slowly, a pair of dark boots entered Daryl's blurred vision.

"You really shouldn't be drinking when your blood is still pretty thin," scolded Maggie gently. Daryl stiffened at the girl's voice: Maggie wasn't the one he thought would come after him if any of them did. The next time Daryl focused on his surroundings, he found Maggie sitting on his right. He didn't acknowledge the move and took another drink, the whiskey providing him with the escape he craved. "Seriously Daryl, I'm not going to let you kill yourself in front of me."

Maggie's hands closed over Daryl's as she eased the bottle out of them. His eyes lazily met hers then fell to his lap. He no longer knew what to do with his hands and let them rest on the cool floor. She could almost see the weight of his brother and that of the prison on his hunched shoulders. Maggie frowned at never having seen Daryl so defeated before. Whatever war he was fighting within himself, he was losing.

Maggie sighed then took a drink from the bottle and cringed, earning herself a small side glance from Daryl. "It's not that we don't care about Merle, we are sorry, we just don't know how to say it," she said and raised the bottle to her lips again. "We all love you Daryl, and Merle was important to you so we care about him too."

"Who is this _we_? 'Cause I sure as shit ain't seein' 'em," Daryl said, closing his eyes and leaning back into the wall.

"Rick cares, he really does, he's just got a lot on his plate right now. You may not see it but Carol is always worried about you. My dad...Michonne...Carl...Glenn and I...Lil' Ass Kicker..."

Daryl scoffed and wanted to shake his head but changed his mind when he was hit with a wave of dizziness. "Y'all got a funny way of showin' ya care."

"Woodbury will come around, but you've got to meet us halfway with them. Look at their side of it...You, Rick, and Michonne broke into their town and killed some of their people trying to rescue me and Glenn. They didn't have anything to do with us being captured and didn't even know we were there. They were scared and the Governor told them you and Merle were bad so they believed him," said Maggie. Daryl tried to get his muscles to tense up like he didn't agree with her but his body wasn't cooperating.

"So what's yer point?" asked Daryl in a rough whisper.

"You heard Rick: We have to move on."

Daryl reached for the whiskey but Maggie set it down on the far side of her. "Ya say move on and his says forget...don't know which one of ya to believe..."

"You can't hold what happened over their heads forever..." Maggie looked to Daryl who made a face like challenging what she just said. "You can't, Daryl."

"Yeah well anythin' goes when you don't care no more," he said under a sigh.

"You still care otherwise you wouldn't still be here," said Maggie softly. The corners of Daryl's mouth turned down and he buried his face in his hands. He'd inhale sharply every so often and let it out in a long sigh that spoke more than any words could. "I know you're thinking about leaving, but I'd really like it if you'd wait. It would mean more to me than you think if you were at Glenn and I's wedding. If you could wait until then, even if it's that night, you don't know how happy that would make me. If you..." Maggie stopped to wipe her eyes in her shirt. "If you could see how much you mean to us...You always have and you always will even if you leave. So just know that wherever you go, we'll be here hoping that you're ok and that you're happy...That you found someplace or someone that gives you what we couldn't. But we'll also be hoping to look up one day and see you walking back in the gate."

Maagie finished speaking, her throat too tight to continue and wiped her eyes again. That was all she could do for Daryl. Hopefully he'd accept her offer and hang around the prison until the wedding. Perhaps by then things would've settled down and he wouldn't be thinking about leaving anymore. Or Rick could pull his head about of his ass long enough to see who really needed help around the prison.

She looked over to Darl and found he hadn't change in the slightest. She didn't want to think he was crying because that was just so out of character for him. But then again she figured even the strongest men have a breaking point. Maggie remembered the time in the truck fleeing Woodbury when she'd been shot and Daryl had been willing to sacrifice himself for her. Looking for Sophia and rescuing her and Glenn...Helping with Judith. He had practically carried them through winter by himself. With everything he had done for the group, he sure didn't get much in return.

Maggie placed the lightest hand possible on Daryl's shoulder to let him know she was still there and then stood. She picked up the nearly empty bottle of whiskey and tucked it under her arm. "Just so you know...I am the bride and you can never tell the bride no," she said trying to force a convincing tone into her voice. When Daryl didn't say anything, Maggie leaned over to inspect him to make sure he was still conscious. Satisfied he was only being stubborn, Maggie walked to the door. Looking back she said, "Not all from Woodbury don't care...Mary was the one that offered to give you blood."

Maggie hastened back towards the cells like she was running from a fire. She found the others cleaning up the mess from where Thomas had been shot. Rick, Tyreese, Mr. Mason, and Hershel were engaged in conversation discussing of all things, Carl and Daryl and what to do if someone got out of line like that again.

"We could always arrest them, like you wanted to do back with Bill...handcuff them, put them in a cell..." Tyreese suggested to Rick. "That's probably the safest way to deal with someone."

"I wouldn't want to be the one to handcuff someone like Daryl," laughed Mr. Mason causing Maggie to dig her nails into her hand to keep from saying anything. "That would not go over well with him at all."

"I've dealt with worse," sighed Rick, "and I managed with his brother Merle."

"Well if you need help, you'll find it in me," said Mr. Mason all too happily.

Enraged, Maggie rushed forward and pushed the bottle of whiskey into Rick's hands. The sheriff jumped slightly and the others looked up at her in mild shock. "You know, sometimes the person that doesn't look like he needs help is the one who needs it the most," she said and stormed out the other side of the cell block.

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A/N: And there it is. I don't know why I'm so happy with it, but I am. I hope y'all enjoyed it and let me know what you think. There was something else I was going to say but I don't remember now...oh! I bet Mr. Mason and Rick just got put on some of y'all's shit lists for that one. There's also a few things in this chapter that will come into play later on...

**Hell Hath No-** yup, Daryl broke. He broke big time. And now he and Rick "broke up" too. Oh, you'll find out about the car situation later and Woodbury is not going to shut up anytime soon. It will be interesting to see if Rick really does anything about Carl because he might not.

**junkie munkie-** good call with the heart attack. I mean, it could have been a stroke but the point is the dude is dead. Carl has gone pretty cuckoo, I hope I didn't overdo it. Not to give anything away…but something you said might become an issue later on. Ok, it will be an issue. Surprisingly, I didn't get a single suggestion for Rick/Daryl.

**Peachuzoid-** I have a feeling you dig the Rickyl bromance and I just kinda broke them up. Sorry about that. Man, I wish I could say more but it'd give too much away! Ugh, it pains me to now tell you anything else! Love hearing from you!

**purehalo-** no you may not slap Rick! Since you hate Mary Sues, I was wondering if you caught that a character named Mary was introduced and then promptly killed her off. That was for you!

**DemonFireFox-** thank you, I'm trying to have a cool story that isn't all romance-y

**AddictedtoCaffine-** Ugh, I can't stand Carol! I feel like if she was real (or I was in TWD) that we wouldn't get along and she'd have an "accident." I really hope the show does address the Daryl/Woodbury issue. It seems like there could be some good stuff there.

**Therm-** thank you for all your feedback. It's ok if you don't review every chapter especially when I post them at such odd hours (generally about 3 in the morning Texas time). I really like the idea of Tyreese sort of taking Daryl's place as Rick's second, although not everyone (in the fic) may be ok with it. But thank you again for all you say and I'll try to stop apologizing, no promises though.

**mrskaz453- **wow….when you get mad at a character, you really go all out haha. Carl, Carol, Rick, Tyreese- apparently no one is safe from you if they mess with Daryl, especially Carol. I'm almost tempted to have her throw herself at Daryl just for you ;) Why would you want Daryl to leave the prison? You heard what Rick said about being a lone wolf—do you want him to die?

**crazstiz-** thank you!

**PandamoniumPress-** sorry for almost making you cry. It's ok to hate Carl; I currently hate him. And thank you for your reviews!

**Surplus Imagination-** thank you for stumbling across my story and saying it was "excellent." That made me seriously happy. I'm sorry that you don't like Rick but everyone has their bad times.

**Angela-** thank you for saying I'm doing a good job with Daryl, I'm trying really hard to capture who he is and how Merle's death has changed him.

**hanagirl- **yeah a school yard fight is actually where I got the idea from.

**WalkingDeadGuy-** There will much more of your favorite redneck and a darkened child so be sure to stick around! But yes, it does look like Rick and Daryl will be at odds for a while at least.

**Effigy- **thanks for taking time from work to read this! I was like "wow, I must be doing something right." Sorry that you teared up (not really, my goal was to make y'all emotional).

**CB8236-** sorry to make you sad! It will get better…eventually…maybe…

**bri1216-** yes! There will be more. This isn't over yet.

**LaurenEmilyxx-** yes he does and it sucks that no one else sees it.

**Peta2-** thank you! I was really disappointed with how the show treated Merle's death and basically ignored it so that's actually how I got this idea.

**Candra wolfgal97**- thanks for all you say chica!

**And to the guests that drop by:** Thank you for your feedback! I love hearing from everyone!


	21. A New Brother

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

**A/N**: Thank you for all the wonderful things everyone said about the last chapter-you are all terrific. I wish everyone would say something, even as an anonymous guest, because I do love knowing what you think-good and bad.

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Rick turned from Hershel, Tyreese, and Mr. Mason; they were nonexistent in that moment. All that registered with him was that Daryl was in trouble. The nearly drained bottle of whiskey in his hands coupled with Maggie's words served like a kick to the stomach to Rick: His priorities had been wrong.

Carol had once asked him if Daryl was ok, and Rick had simply responded with "it's Daryl" like everything was fine and he'd resolve his problems, if he had any, on his own. Daryl always had this way about him that said he could take care of himself. His skin was so thick that nothing got under it. Rick thought the man was a rock—an immovable force. But even the biggest boulder can have the ground under it crumble and come crashing down.

They'd almost lost Daryl once, there wasn't going to be a twice.

Rick immediately found Carol's stern gaze as it pierced through him. He had stood there and told her that they would keep an eye on Daryl—that'd they'd make sure he was fine, and yet they had somehow overlooked his inner turmoil. They thought Daryl was supposed to deal with Merle's death on his own—like he did for everything else. It wasn't the prison's fault for not reaching out to him; they didn't know he needed them to.

"_Damn it Daryl_," sighed Rick loud enough for the others near him to shift nervously. He handed the bottle off to Mr. Mason and looked to Hershel. "I'm going to go talk to him," declared Rick.

"That's probably not the best idea," said Mr. Mason. "I don't know him like you do but he was acting pretty aggressive a few minutes ago. You saw the way he lashed out at the kids…and now you've added alcohol to the mix?"

"You are correct Mr. Mason: You don't know him like we do," said Hershel. "Daryl is not dangerous. He is misunderstood and feels like he's alone. He needs someone and we've been focusing on anything other than him."

Mr. Mason frowned and shook his head gravely. "He's acting like a spoiled brat that wants attention."

"He is not," said Carol as she joined the conversation. "He just lost his brother and we expected it to not bother him. I didn't care for Merle, not one bit, but that doesn't mean I lost sight of how important he was to Daryl."

"Merle was a traitor to the Governor; a good man that saved my life when he didn't have to," stated Mr. Mason proudly. "He built a great town for us and we were safe until Merle brought your people in and you attacked us. Merle deserves what he got. Daryl and his brother may have different bodies but the blood is the same."

"Were you not listening a minute ago?" cried Carol. "We can't change what happened in Woodbury and it makes no sense to dwell on it."

"Ok, ok..." said Rick calmly before things became any more heated. "I'm going to go talk to Daryl-by myself," he added, looking around at the crowd.

"Are you sure?" asked Tyreese, worriedly. "Glenn and I can come with you."

"I can handle him," answered Rick. "It needs to be me." Carol started to open her mouth to offer her assistance but Rick shook his head.

Rick didn't need Maggie to tell him where he'd the able to find the downed Dixon. If Daryl was missing Merle, he'd go back to the place where he felt like he could be close to him again.

Rick wanted to kick himself for missing that sign. Daryl had retreated to the generator room before when Carl had been cruel towards him. And Daryl wasn't meaning to be a lone wolf and falling into trouble, he was only trying to sort things out for himself. Maybe that was what needed: Some time off to grieve or do whatever he needed to do. Or did he not want to be alone? Maybe he wanted someone he could talk to about it.

As Rick walked, he tried to figure out what Daryl needed. Was it space, a friend, or another brother? He could give Daryl space. It had been a mistake to go off hunting with him. All he wanted was a few hours away from the people of Woodbury by himself and Rick felt guilty for denying him that. He was doing so much for them already-he was their main source of food until their crops were ready, and that wouldn't be for several months. And he was feeding those he would rather not be. Woodbury brought nothing in-couldn't contribute-but there Daryl was feeding and protecting them though their presence was nothing but a burden to his healing. If it wasn't space that Daryl needed, Rick knew he had to step it up. He couldn't push Daryl and his problems aside. He'd be a friend and show him he didn't have to endure Merle's death alone. Or perhaps Daryl needed Rick to be the brother that Merle sometimes tried to be. Whatever Daryl needed now came first.

Rick paused at the door to the generator room: Daryl was sitting hunched over against one of the walls. He wasn't frightening or dangerous or a threat to anyone in the prison. Nonetheless, Rick knocked on the doorframe to alert Daryl to his entrance and give the man a moment to compose himself.

Hearing the knock, Daryl immediately wiped his eyes. They eventually drifted upwards and found Rick's. Daryl couldn't hold the contact for long and they fell away to stare aimlessly at the floor again. He was so...

Rick moved forward before his mind would have him think of Daryl as being weak or defeated. He didn't say anything as he stood in front of Daryl and offered him a hand. It took Daryl several seconds to realize Rick was there by him and more still to see his hand. Eventually, Daryl's calloused hand found Rick's and Rick pulled him to his feet where he wavered slightly. The sheriff extended his other arm to help steady him.

Rick leaned closer and he could smell the whiskey pouring off of Daryl. He instantly wished it hadn't come to that. "_Daryl_..." whispered Rick. Daryl raised his eyes and discovered Rick's not far from his own. Normally the proximity would've irritated Daryl but today he was drawn to it. "I'll be whatever you need me to be," said Rick, his voice sure and strong. Daryl tried to nob but ended up biting on his lip to keep himself from fully losing it: His hand swiping again at his wet eyes.

As the seconds slipped by, Daryl fell farther and farther apart. He hadn't made a sound but the steady stream of tears that rolled off his chin were enough to tell Rick that'd he gotten to Daryl just in time. A minute later, Rick was no longer in front of Daryl but at his side and supporting most his weight. Daryl made no attempt to shy away from the arm that took hold of him around his waist and even helped by putting his own over Rick's shoulder and neck.

The cell block had resumed their usual activities by the time Rick stumbled in with Daryl. Rick thought it was easier to move Daryl once he passed out and wasn't tripping over his awkward and faltering steps. The pair had been quickly surrounded by Carol, Glenn, and Hershel who all looked the hunter with care. After it was decided Daryl would be fine after sleeping it off, Glenn helped Rick lay him down in his cell. Carol retrieved a bottle of water and placed it under Daryl's hand so he'd have it he woke. Her fingers brushed his hair away from his eyes and she frowned at the dirty tear tracks that streaked down his cheeks. Feeling the presence of Glenn and Rick behind her, she gave him a quick kiss on his forehead and retreated through the door.

No one mentioned Daryl again that night, but his name was all over the prison at daybreak when his cell was discovered empty.

* * *

****Thanks again to everyone for reading and especially to those that left a review. (If ya I haven't figured out yet that I love them).

**Hell Hath No-** Woodbury, unfortunately.

**junkie munkie-** don't worry, Carol will go after Daryl, she was there. She'll make sure everyone knows her feelings towards the situation (even though I know you really don't like her).

**Peachuzoid-** I'm glad you liked that it was Maggie that talked to Daryl. I was a little worried that this might seem ooc for her.

**AddictedtoCaffine-** don't get too mad at Rick. It's not like he wants to arrest Daryl, they were just discussing it as an option that if anyone from the prison gets out of hand, that's what they can do. Granted, if things don't get better between them, it could happen.

**Therm-** I don't know what happened with Maggie in the show. She was awesome, and then she faded into the background. I hope it wasn't too weird to have her step up and say something to Daryl. As for having Daryl handcuffed or anyone else, no Hershel probably wouldn't be ok with it, but it might be necessary if things get out of control.

**mrskaz453- **I'm glad we got that miscommunication of our sorted out. Thanks for reading and reviewing. Still love your rants!

**Effigy-** what if they never get the chance to reconcile?

**Surplus Imagination-** Thank you for saying I did good with Maggie. That was originally going to be Carol but Maggie was quicker at finding Daryl's crossbow and figured something was up.

**Deanandjo4ever1- **thank you for finding this and even better leaving me a review! It probably would have been better if Michonne let the boys sort things out then Daryl wouldn't have blown up like he did in front of everyone.

**CocoChuba-** thank you! He doesn't _want_ to handcuff Daryl but he will if it is in the interest for the group.

**tammgrogan-** THANK YOU!

**Candra wolfgal97**- thanks for being my motivation to get an update out a day.

**Angela-** I agree with what you said about Daryl and how it's hard to tell people's emotional needs in this new world. tho did think about having Carol find Daryl first but Maggie found his bow first and got suspicious. Early bird gets the Daryl haha.


	22. Trap Said Welcome

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

**A/N**: I found this to be a somewhat of a fun chapter. I'm curious to know what you think. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

* * *

_That damn Maggie..._

It wasn't the worst hangover of his life, but it was certainly in the running. Daryl groaned deeply as he rolled over in his bed and onto the water bottle Carol had left for him. He was mildly surprised to find himself in bed and had to focus on how on recalling how he got there. He remembered Maggie asking him to stick around for her wedding and then Rick coming and talking to him, something about being whatever he needed him to be or whatever. It was fuzzy at best after that.

Daryl sat up and rubbed his stinging eyes. So he had cried. Hopefully he hadn't broken down in front of the entire prison and wailed like Judith. Dixons weren't supposed to be weak or cry, a lesson he'd been taught enough. Merle was gone and that was it; nothing could bring him back. He made his decision to take on the Governor by himself. That was his choice, his call—no one made him do it. Sure Michonne had got into his head somehow but he still acted on his own knowing his life was most likely to be forfeited. Daryl decided he could lie around and mope or he could do something about it. The Governor was still alive and an active threat; he wasn't going to leave the prison alone until they were all dead.

Daryl got out of bed with a purpose and pushed away all symptoms of his hangover. His pounding head and turning stomach were only going to slow him down while he was out looking to avenge _both_ his brothers.

He opened the water, which probably came from Carol, and slicked his dried out throat. He threw his crossbow over his back and double checked to make sure his knife was still attached to his belt. Satisfied that he was sufficiently armed, Daryl strode out of his cell mindful not to wake the others. The prison was completely dark, although there was a very dim peach glow in the prison windows. Daryl guessed it was almost time for a changing of the guards and felt remorseful at having made someone else pick up his shift. He stopped momentarily to eat a can of beans and used the time to assess their food situation. They weren't hard off but eating the same dried and canned goods everyday was sure to wear at morale and they certainly didn't need that to get any lower. He had a prison to feed and the Governor to kill so it was time to stop being a little bitch, as Merle would say, and get to it.

Daryl stepped out the prison door and into the crisp Georgia air. His muscles tensed as he fought off a slight shiver: it was cool now, but it would warm up. Night had not quite lifted and the eastern sky was slowing brightening.

"Did you get in everything you needed to say?" asked a husky voice from Daryl's left. He turned and watched as a lighter was flicked and then lit a cigarette between the lips of Mr. Mason as he lurked in the shadows. Daryl's teeth grated at this unwelcome presence. "That was quite the tirade yesterday. I hope we don't have to see one of those again…of course _Sheriff_ Rick won't let it get out of control like that anymore."

"Good to know," huffed Daryl. "Glad he'll be steppin' up and lookin' out for the good of everyone like he should be."

"Your sarcasm could use a little work," said Mr. Mason as he blew a puff of smoke into the air. "Don't think you're immune—that you don't fall under the same rules as everyone else."

"I got my own set of rules," said Daryl darkly as he faced the man, "and beatin' the shit out of an old man ain't one of 'em."

"Now, now Daryl: play nice," Mr. Mason chuckled slightly and tapped his cigarette against the wall to knock some ash off. "I'm sorry but I think we started off on the wrong foot."

"Still on the wrong foot," spat Daryl. "I ain't never done shit to ya."

"No," agreed Mr. Mason, "but your brother and I didn't see eye-to-eye on more than one occasion."

Daryl thought about throwing Mason into the wall but then thought better of it. "Ya well I ain't Merle," said Daryl as he took a step away.

"Prove me wrong," dared Mr. Mason as he put out his cigarette. "Same trash, different landfill."

Daryl sucked in as large a breath of air as his lungs would allow. He really didn't feel like having to explain to anyone, especially Rick, why his knife had made its way into the center of Mr. Mason's head. Daryl decided it was in everyone's best interest if he just walked away. Unfortunately he did have to wonder what Merle could have done to earn him this much trouble from a man he didn't even know. But unless Mr. Mason was going to volunteer the information, Daryl wasn't going to go looking for it.

"_Asshole is sill causin' me trouble_," muttered Daryl as he walked towards the prison fence. He was half way there when he noticed the outline of someone coming out of the guard tower. He immediately guessed it was Carl because the shadow was half the size of any of the adults. Daryl continued along the road knowing his and the boy's paths would converge. "Hey there little man," said Daryl when Carl was close enough. Carl stopped short, clearly surprised that anyone else was in the prison yard with him. "Just me," said Daryl after he didn't hear the boy's steps pick up again.

"Oh…hey…" Carl said hesitantly. "Um, how are you feeling?" he asked and Daryl heard the grid of gravel under Carl's boots.

"Good enough to go hunt…Could use some help."

"Yeah?" asked Carl doubtfully. "Are you sure?"

"Ya as long as ya don't attack me like your old man did," said Daryl. "We gotta get goin' though—animals will be up and movin' soon. Ya got a gun?"

"Yeah," said Carl. Daryl could see the glint of Carl's silenced pistol as he offered it forward. "This work?"

"'S fine. Hopefully ya won't need it…C'mon," said Daryl, placing a hand on Carl's shoulder to guide him towards the gate.

* * *

"_This sucks_," Carl mumbled. He thought he had said it quiet enough to miss Daryl's hearing but the hunter sent him a scowl that told Carl to shut it. The pair had been following a fresh set of deer tracks most of the morning but had yet to spot elusive animal. The hunt for bigger game however didn't stop Daryl from taking all the squirrels and hares they came across. Carl now had three squirrels and two small hares tied to his belt, the latest squirrel having been one Daryl allowed him to pick off. It wasn't much of a kill but Carl had held it proudly and Daryl consented that it was bigger than the ones he got.

"_It ought to be Rick out here with 'im_," thought Daryl as they moved deeper into the woods. "_Kid's not so bad and there ain't shit for 'em to argue over_." Grabbing Carl had been just an impulse but it was working out so far. Daryl knew that he and Carl could both use a break from prison life and the people in it. He wasn't breaking any rules with taking Carl out either, or none that he was aware of. Plus Rick had said no more lone wolf stuff and Carl had gotten around him around that as well.

Daryl crouched to inspect the latest print he came across then frowned at the appearance of human's next to it. "What is it?" asked Carl from beside him.

"There's a walker followin' it too. Hopefully we can get to it first," said Daryl as he traced the shoe print. "You'd think the damn things would be dyin' off."

"Can I shoot it?" asked Carl. Daryl straightened and looked down on the boy. "Can I shoot the deer once we find it?"

Daryl squinted at Carl and gave him a noncommittal nod that seemed to say "as long as ya don't piss me off, then yes." That was good enough for Carl and he started to walk with a new spring in his step. Daryl sighed and hurried to take the lead again so he wouldn't have to deal with Carl messing up their trail.

Daryl and Carl spent the next hour slipping through the forest so silently that they didn't even disturb the birds above them. Although he didn't verbally protest, Daryl felt Carl's growing discontent as he became less interested in their hunt. Daryl would check over his shoulder and see the boy inspecting a bush or pointing his gun towards nothing in particular.

"Hey Daryl," he said suddenly, "back in Woodbury, how'd you manage to get caught rescuing Glenn and Maggie? You don't seem like the kind of guy to go down without a fight."

Daryl's face and his grip on the crossbow tightened. It wasn't an unfair question but rather unexpected. "I held back a bit longer than I shoulda, maybe thought I'd see Merle, then ran outta ammo and got caught goin' over the wall," admitted Daryl. "Woulda been shot right there 'cept I mentioned Merle and they figured it'd be more fun to watch us kill each other."

"He saved your life," stated Carl and Daryl stopped walking. "He did, and I wish he was still around. We could use him. Woodbury-"

"Ain't worth shit," finished Daryl, making Carl smiled. "Naw, Merle'd hate 'em and just want to leave."

"Would you leave?" asked Carl. "Are you thinking of leaving?"

"Nowhere else for me to go," said Daryl.

Carl was about to say something but Daryl made a fist and held it in the air. He couldn't be sure but he thought he heard the panic grunting coming from a deer. Daryl advanced towards the direction the noise came from with Carl close on his heels. If anything the deer had probably become tired of fleeing from the walker and laid down only to be attacked. Daryl figured that'd be some bad luck if they had to return with only their small game.

"Somethin' ain't right," Daryl said after the grunting grew louder. "If a walker was on it, it'd be dead by now."

"People?" guessed Carl.

"We're 'bout to find out...should be just up ahead," said Daryl. He quickly became thankful for Carl's gun if they were about to run into other survivors. His crossbow wasn't much good against anything that could shoot back unless he shot first and there was only one. Daryl's eyes scanned the forest for any signs of life, or death. He noticed they were walking on a small trail, most likely the one used by the deer they were after. It curved once around a tree, then between two rocks, then around a few low shrubs. As they reached the rocks, the grunting picked up along with rustling in the bushes ahead.

"The hell..." said Daryl as he lowered his crossbow. Carl arrived beside the man and stopped, his gun falling to his side. Daryl chewed on his cheek as he took in the small buck before him. It was struggling wildly in the bushes and breaking off leaves as it fought to free itself front the metal trap around one of its back legs.

"Is it..._caught_?" asked Carl surprised.

"Naw...it's trapped..."

"Are we going to set it free?"

Daryl looked at Carl and seriously considered hitting him over the head with his crossbow. They just spent the better part of the morning looking for this buck and now that they they found him, were going to set it loose? "Or ya can shoot it," said Daryl.

Carl was visibly disappointed in the easiness of the shot but nonetheless raised his gun and after a small pop, the buck dropped to the forest floor. "Too easy," muttered Carl.

Daryl shook his head and bent down to free the deer from the trap. His hands worked quickly and when he had the leg free, he reset the trap and tried to position it the best he could where he thought it had initially been laid. "So we clean it now, right?" asked Carl.

Daryl handed his crossbow to the boy so he could hoist the buck over his shoulders. "Nope, we're takin' it back to the prison," answered Daryl. He positioned the deer's legs so that they were pressed against his chest and its head hung off his shoulder. Daryl thought it felt weird to have the warm body against his back. Usually he'd immediately field dress the deer so they wouldn't have its guts around their camps or prison attracting walkers thus making its body cooler. Also lighter, but the buck wasn't unmanageable as it was.

"Why? I thought you always-"

"How do ya think the buck got trapped in the first place?" asked Daryl, his eyes flashing dangerously at Carl. "Walkers don't set traps and there ain't any rust on it meanin' someone's been takin' care of it. And give me my crossbow back," he said and snatched at his weapon.

"Someone...someone is here?" asked Carl, shocked. "We have to tell the prison."

"No we ain't," said Daryl as he rounded on the boy. "Think 'bout it. Rick will want to either scout this place out and sees who's here or move us. It's probably a guy or two holed up in a cabin and it ain't worth riskin' findin' a new place. Yer gonna keep yer mouth shut. Now we gotta go before he shows up to check his trap." Carl's mouth snapped shut and Daryl motioned with a jerk of his head for him to get moving.

Daryl paid better attention on the way back to the prison and guessed they'd gone about four miles. The people obviously didn't have their camp set right on the trap so they could be a mile or two farther away. Daryl hadn't seen any human prints around the area so maybe someone hadn't been by to check it since the last rain and they could be dead. "_Looks like the neighborhood is getting crowded_," thought Daryl.

* * *

A/N: So I was going to respond to all y'alls reviews but...it's 4:30 in the morning. I'll be sure to cover them in the next update. But no...we are NOT hitting, slapping, killing, or pushing Mr. Mason down a flight of stairs or anthing of the sort. He's an old man and y'all should be ashamed of yourselves for thinking that way.


	23. A New Shane

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

If Daryl had been there, he'd told the entire prison compound off for being ridiculous and unobservant. Judith had started to cry almost the same minute that Daryl left the cell block, waking everyone. Carol noticed Daryl's empty cell first and immediately alerted Rick. Things began to snowball from there.

Rick called an impromptu meeting with everyone from their original prison group in an attempt at figuring Daryl out. There it was revealed that Maggie had asked him to stick around until the wedding but he made no indication that he would. Carol had a field day with Rick when he told them he didn't say anything other than his "I'll be whatever you need me to be" line. Rick soon admitted it wasn't the best choice of words considering it was subject to interpretation and Daryl's interpreting skills were a little dulled but the alcohol in his veins. Mr. Mason only added fuel to the fire when he came in and said Daryl had been "rather smart with him" and taken off by himself. The disappearance of Carl didn't help either when no one could find him after his shift on watch. They wanted to put two and two together and say that Daryl and Carl went out for the day except Daryl would have more common sense to run off with a kid. The best they figured was that Carl was sulking in the shadows around the prison and Daryl was doing whatever he had to in the woods.

By noon it was generally accepted that Carl would show up when he was hungry and Daryl was wherever he was. Not all were taking his leave lightly though. The story of the time Maggie and Glenn were abducted by Merle began to circulate causing Rick to emphasize his point that no one was to leave the prison alone. With the Governor out there and who knows what other people, it was too dangerous. If someone went missing, it would be near impossible to find them again.

"There has to be some sort of punishment for these types of actions," said Mr. Mason when the prison had stopped to eat lunch. "Daryl Dixon is likely to bring more trouble to this prison than he is worth."

Rick set down his plate, his appetite leaving him. It was no secret that Mr. Mason and Daryl had their fair share of differences, but it was hard to say where those differences stemmed from. Rick put his money on Merle or perhaps Mason had something against Daryl's redneck-type even before the dead began to walk. He was tempted to toss Mr. Mason out the gate but unfortunately the man had gathered a respectful following from the Woodbury folks and was unofficially that group's spokesperson. Karen, Sasha, and Tyreese tried to bridge the gap between Woodbury and the prison but their age had them falling closer to the prisons' side of things.

"Mr. Mason…you need to give Daryl some time. He usually isn't like this and he knows all too well what happens when someone goes off alone. It nearly cost him his life last time," said Rick. "He has things to work out and it's best that we let him."

Mason frowned deeply, not impressed with Rick's explanation for Daryl's absence. "Now Rick, the first thing you said to us when we got here is that you will do whatever it takes to keep us safe, and I don't see how letting a man run off by himself holds up your end. Say the Governor captures him and offers to let him go in exchange for you or several others. Are you willing to make that deal? Do you value his life more than the others here?"

Rick was silent as he considered Mr. Mason's words. Was he willing to sacrifice those from Woodbury to save Daryl? Yes. Could he? No. They needed a sense of order in this crumbling world and throwing Woodbury or someone else under the bus to save even Daryl was not an option.

"If Daryl, or anyone else, ends up with the Governor, I don't see how we can negotiate. It will more than likely be a trap like it was with Michonne and Merle. So Mr. Mason, you are correct in that we can't value one life over another," said Rick even though he regretted every word. "And if Daryl continues to jeopardize the safety of the prison, we will do something about it."

"Good," said Mr. Mason with a toothy smile, "the others will be relieved to hear that. I know he does a lot for the group but he could be doing a lot more if he took a moment before he acted."

"I'll be sure to tell him your concerns, as well as mine," said Rick looking down at his uneaten meal. "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go patrol the fence."

Mr. Mason's eyes followed Rick as he stood from the table and headed to the door. Rick left the cell block with a knot inside of him instead of a stomach. How was he going to tell Daryl he could take all the time he needed for Merle but someone had to be there with him? If Daryl didn't take too kindly to the idea of a shadow, then there wasn't much stopping him from picking up and leaving. It was a shitty situation on top of already thin ice.

Rick trekked into the yard while the others remained on break inside. They had several rows of seeds planted in addition to a couple of fruit trees which helped to disguise the fact they were living in a prison. The fences were holding strong and they cleared them of walkers three times a day, more if needed. Everything seemed as it should be.

Rick surveyed the yard again and then noticed a peculiarity down by the road at the main gates: A group of walkers appeared to be eating something though he couldn't make out what. When they finished they began to walk in a line towards two additional figures—both human. The first was sitting on a log and working with something on the ground while the second one used a crossbow to shoot the walkers as they drew closer.

"_Carl and Daryl_," sighed Rick. Neither acted as though they were particularly concerned with the growing number of dead they were attracting and Daryl would periodically go to Carl, point or say something, then return to killing the walkers. Rick decided he had seen enough of the pair playing around and wanted them back inside the fence and set off to bring them in. Rick walked briskly to keep from aggravating his still healing ribs, but his pace quickened into a jog when a walker got within ten feet of Carl before it received an arrow between its eyes.

Rick could tell Carl was indeed working on cutting something as he knife would skim the tops of the grass before dipping back down. It appeared that Daryl's job was to defend him while he was preoccupied.

"How's this?" asked Carl as he raised a bloody knife away from his project.

Daryl didn't immediately answer and pulled an arrow from a walker's head before reloading it in his crossbow. He shot another walker, reclaimed the arrow from that one as well, and then went back over to Carl. "Better than yer old man," said Daryl and Carl beamed up at him. However the glow in Carl's eyes left soon at seeing his father approach.

"What's that?" asked Rick, coming up behind Daryl.

"Teachin' 'im how to clean a squirrel," answered Daryl as he moved to take care of a walker. Rick bent down to inspect Carl's work and discovered a row of neatly skinned squirrels and a few hares. "I was gonna show 'im how to do a deer but all these damn things keep showin' up."

Rick noticed the deer and frowned. "I thought you usually took care of this away from the prison so it didn't attract too many walkers," he questioned the hunter.

"Yeah well felt like we should check in so ya don't come out lookin' for us," said Daryl with a slight edge sneaking into his voice.

"It'd been nice if you had told us you planned a hunting trip with Carl today," said Rick as he stepped closer to Daryl. Daryl shot him an annoyed look but quickly went back to the walkers. "You can't be going off alone like this without telling anyone."

"He didn't go by himself," said Carl as he came jumping into the adult's conversation. "I went with him."

"It's not the-"

"Why is everyone always giving Daryl a hard time?" asked Carl. Both Rick and Daryl turned around to see the boy dig his knife into the log and glare up at Rick. "You don't want him going off alone and he didn't. We have to go hunting more now that all of Woodbury is here, so what did you expect?"

Daryl instinctively tensed as the conversation centered on him and he certainly wasn't used to a kid defending him.

"Carl it's just that he still isn't feeling a hundred percent and you need more experience killing walkers before I'm comfortable with sending you out like that," said Rick. He walked over to where Carl was sitting and sat on the log next to him.

"That's bullshit!" cried Carl. He pulled his knife from the log and backed up. Daryl immediately advanced and made himself available to intervene if a fight was to breakout. "Daryl was fine out there! We didn't even have trouble with walkers until we got here. And how can you say I don't have experience with walkers? I was the one cleaning out the tombs while you did nothing."

"We gotta eat," said Daryl evenly. "He's right too: only trouble with walkers came round here."

"_Daryl_," whispered Rick, "_I need you on my side with this_."

Daryl stared blankly back at Rick, his face unreadable.

"He doesn't want to be in there with Woodbury, and I don't either," said Carl. "They don't care about dad-I mean Daryl..."

Silence descended over the group like a blanket smothering a fire. Not even the low growls from an approaching walker were enough to shake the three from their stupor. Carl cringed and refused to raise his eyes from the ground. The toe off his boot worked at breaking up a chunk of dirt and grass. Daryl went ridgid and hoped Rick wasn't going to look his way. He already hated the way his heart sped up and felt the way it beated traitorously under his shirt.

Rick was left stunned. There was no mistaking what Carl had just said. His mouth opened and closed as he was unsure of what, if anything, to say. He was looking at Carl but the boy went out of focus. After a minute, he noticed a burning in his chest and realized he hadn't taken a breath. He wasn't sure he wanted to. This was like with Shane all over again.

When Rick turned back to Daryl, he had to tell himself it was Daryl...that Shane was dead. Daryl was not Shane. Except here was Carl looking up to Daryl and respecting him-defending him- instead of his own father. Daryl was currently the one causing the most grief in the prison. He was Rick's right hand man. Daryl, like Shane, was supposed to have his back but now he was just standing by as his own son gave him lip.

"Fine," said Rick, trying to sound indifferent. He backtracked from the other two and shoved the walker away instead of killing it. "Fine," he nodded to Daryl and then to Carl.

Everything was a blur to Rick after that. He wasn't aware of his feet moving or going through the gate to the prison yard. He thought he bumped into Sasha and muttered a small apology in case he actually did. The cell block swirled around him although he couldn't say how he got inside it. He turned in a circle trying to get his bearings straight before giving up and falling to his knees, completely lost.

* * *

**A/N-** Thanks for reading and reviewing because y'all probably hate me after that one. First Mason wont die and now that. Please stick with the storAnAnd don't leave!

**Hell Hath No-** not punching Mr. Mason. Yes, they'd go with Woodbury. But you have to see it as they do. You can't allow one person to jeopardize the entire prison. It happened with the prisoners and Rick and company decided to send them on the road rather than risk them staying in the prison.

**Crazstiz-** we all thoroughly dislike Mr. Mason.

**Angela**- sorry Mason is driving you nuts. Oh wait, no I'm not. It's really not Woodbury that is giving them trouble, just Mason. He's the loudest voice but doesn't necessarily speak for everyone. There is the possibility of a spy or someone of the sort around the prison.

**junkie munkie-** we are not decking Mr. Mason or putting him in a Saw movie. There are indeed others around and I'll try to make Carol bearable. Try, but no guarantees.

**Therm**- nope, not breaking Mr. Mason's hip. Too bad.

**Purehalo**- you might want to save some slaps for Rick. You'll need them later.

**Peachuzoid-** A certain someone stumbling across Carl and Daryl? Like the Governor? He knows better than to attack in broad daylight….

**AddictedtoCaffine-** I like the idea of Carl looking up to Daryl. Rick isn't really with it and Daryl seems to tolerate the kid well enough.

**LaurenEmilyxx-** a bit of a dick? Man, Mason is the worst.

**mrskaz453-** I think I'll keep Mason around for a while now that I know y'all hate him so much…

**hanagirl**- yes, I'm hoping they eventually cover how Daryl got caught in Woodbury because it didn't feel like something that was likely to happen to him. Sure they didn't tell us to make the reveal in the arena more dramatic but still.

**Lucky713**- I know, he's pretty dumb, or maybe evil?

**Effigy-** please remain calm. All shall be sorted out, one way or another.

**Deanandjo4ever1- **thank you so much! I take it you don't like Mason either…seems to be a growing trend.

**CocoChuba-** Carl and Daryl lead a revolt? That's some serious stuff. You're absolutely right but would they be able to get anyone on their side?

**PandamoniumPress**- yes, additional survivors! Not telling you who though.

**Amy- **thank you!

**Candra wolfgal97**- Mason is staying. I'm thoroughly enjoying tormenting y'all with him.

**Guest2- **thank you for all that you said! I really appreciate hearing my work is good!


	24. Confessions

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

"Rick…what's wrong?"

Sasha and Karen were taking an ice chest down to Carl and Daryl for them to put the meat in when Rick plowed into Sasha. To him, it was a mere passing blow but it left Sasha rubbing her shoulder and scowling back at the man. The two women were clearly concerned with the way Rick ignored the situation and were even more bothered by his incoherent mumblings. They called to Hershel, Glenn, Maggie, Carol, and Tyreese and alerted them to the fact that Rick wasn't _right_. Karen and Sasha pointed them towards the cell block Rick stumbled into and put him into the others' hands. Unsure of what they would find, the five entered cautiously and discovered Rick lying in the middle of the prison floor. The man did not look good: his eyes were glazed over and his face was caught in a serious grimace. Carol descended on him first to try and raise him off his injured side. Rick didn't respond to her touch and remained oblivious to the fact there were other around him.

"What happened?" Maggie whispered to Glenn.

"I don't know…" said Glenn uncertainly.

"You don't think it's like before…"

Glenn shrugged and shook his head. "Rick, are you ok?" he asked the downed man. "Rick…"

Carol patted Rick's arm in an attempt to bring him back but he remained unresponsive. "Is there something we can do?" she asked hesitantly.

"Is this about Carl and Daryl?" asked Tyreese as he stepped forward. "I saw him out talking with them."

Rick flinched at the mention of Carl and Daryl; a sign that they were at the root of his problems.

"They're back? I'm going to have a word with them," said Carol. Maggie moved to take Carol's place with Rick as the other woman sped out of the cell block. Rick appeared to respond to the nearby movement and his eyes regained some focus.

"Rick, you have to tell us what's going on," said Tyreese firmly. "We can't help you unless we know what the problem is."

"He called Daryl dad," said Rick suddenly. Rick sat up almost as quickly and ran his fingers through his hair. "He…he…" Rick lost his words and his head dropped into his hands. Maggie seized Rick's shoulders to keep him from falling over.

The group stood in silence. It wasn't the most unusual news they had received, but it wasn't to be taken lightly when Carl and Rick's relationship was already strained. They knew Rick wanted to patch things with his son and this was a blow that was sure to set them even farther apart.

"Rick, I wouldn't read too much into it," said Tyreese while Hershel nodded in approval. "I did the same thing to one of my teachers when I was Carl's age…It happens when kids spend too much time with someone."

"And it's good that Carl is spending time with Daryl," Maggie offered bravely. "He's a good role model—good enough with all things considered. Not that we need another Daryl but he's responsible." Glenn looked at Maggie, his eyes questioning her use of the word "responsible" in a description of Daryl. "_He is_," she shot back under her breath.

Hershel ambled forward to place himself directly in front of Rick. "This may be a blessing," he said and Rick looked up. Rick's eyes were still hazy but when they found Hershel's, they held on strong. "You've been beyond busy caring for this prison and a few things have slipped through the cracks. We all saw what happened with Carl and Mary; the boy needs to be brought back on track before he loses all respect for the adults and authority. And before you lay blame on yourself, I'd blame the world we live in. It isn't the same one any of us grew up in. Carl needs a father figure in his life and whether intentional or not, he has looked to Daryl. This may be good for Daryl as well. The man can barely tolerate Woodbury and that has pushed him to the outskirts of our entire group. He has very little reason to stay here and perhaps if he feels like he is helping with Carl, he will stay. I fear that if any of us strike out on our own now it will be a death sentence," he finished sadly.

Rick blinked heavily as he searched the face of Hershel. "So I what? Let them do what they want?" he asked in dismay.

"To an extent," replied Hershel. "Until things settle down and we've had a few more nights to adjust. Once you're healed and confident that the prison is in good shape, you can slowly take the reins back from Daryl. You and Carl can go hunting or on runs together or work on projects around here. That will be enough to bring him back to you. It will get better," promised Hershel with a gentle smile.

"What if…what if I lose him?" asked Rick feebly. "I nearly lost Carl and Lori to Shane…It's not much different with Daryl…"

"Daryl is _not_ Shane," snapped Glenn.

Rick made his way to his feet and staggered towards Glenn and yanked the young man to the side.

"You don't see him as I do…it's the same," said Rick in a carrying whisper.

"Really? Do you have another wife we don't know about? Does Daryl run around starting trouble and going against you?" questioned Glenn as he refused to back down. "You can't compare the two."

"He just lost his brother," said Maggie hoping to pull some of Rick's attention off Glenn. "He was the only one of us that hadn't lost someone. He was emotionally stunted already so of course he doesn't know how to deal with this."

Rick rubbed his mouth and began to pace uneasily between Glenn and Hershel.

"I agree with my daughter: this isn't going to be permanent with Daryl. He's loyal to you, Rick," said Hershel.

"We left Shane on the farm," declared Glenn.

Rick shook his head: they didn't understand. They didn't know half of what went on with Shane. They didn't see how he went from a good, _loyal_ friend to the monster that tried to murder him in a field. It started off the same way. In his absence, Carl had looked to Shane for guidance. Shane had slowly questioned his leadership and then began to go against him. He had drifted away from the group and the fighting followed soon after.

Hadn't they been out looking for Sophia when Shane had blatantly said that the girl was only dragging them down? He said it was useless to be searching for her—that she was a lost cause. But Rick hadn't been willing to write Sophia off and that had driven them farther apart. Now it was Daryl saying they should cut their losses and be done with the people from Woodbury but Rick refused to. Daryl wasn't verbally questioning Rick's leadership but the dissent was there. He saw it in the way Daryl started to do things on his own like going into Woodbury and then into the store with Bill. Daryl was acting first rather than wait for Rick's call because he knew Rick wouldn't approve of his methods. Daryl was taking Carl hunting without Rick's permission much the same as when Shane tried to arm Carl but thankfully Lori had stopped him. They had yet come to actual blows between them, but Rick figured it was only a matter of time.

And he dared to call either man a brother.

"_Fine_," hissed Rick as he drew his gun and pointed it warningly at the others. "If they are so different then we have nothing to worry about. If they aren't…" Rick's eyes landed on the row of cells behind Hershel, Glenn, Maggie, and Tyreese as he nodded to himself.

Hershel immediately caught on to what Rick was implying though he wasn't going to announce it. He also wasn't going to say that it wasn't Daryl who was becoming the unreasonable one.

Rick's face softened as he felt his presence needed elsewhere and left the cell block without another word. Glenn and Maggie appeared to be equally worried about Rick although they tried to mask it. Tyreese had yet to close his mouth as he was completely stunned by the extreme emotional range Rick was capable of demonstrating. One day he was cool and collected and the next he was a borderline mental case.

"I think it's best that we leave Carl and Daryl alone," decided Hershel. "We stay out of their way and let them do their thing. Tyreese, I want you to pass it along to Woodbury to leave them both alone unless absolutely necessary. If we chase Daryl off—"

"He won't leave. Not until Glenn and I get married," said Maggie confidently as she looked to Glenn and then her father.

"Nonetheless," pressed Hershel, "he might be the only one Carl is willing to look up to. If something happens and Daryl leaves, there's no telling what it will do to Carl. Rick is hanging on by a thread and though he does not know it, he needs Daryl."

* * *

Daryl stood awkwardly for a good thirty seconds as he watched Rick return to the prison. He didn't know what to do with any part of his body or his brain. Of all the things to come out of Carl's mouth, he would've expected the kid to say he was keeping a cell full of walkers as his personal pets, not...

No, he wasn't going to think about it. He had things to do. He wasn't going to get tied up with _feelings, _especially when they'd caused him so much grief before.

Daryl was glad he still had to clean the deer. He needed something to distract him from Carl. He wasn't sure that he was necessarily upset with Carl. He felt he should be due to the obvious distress it caused Rick but hell, the kid had actually defended him. None of the adults had been doing that. As Daryl started on the deer, he settled for a small grin at Carl's words.

The grin didn't last for long when Daryl began to think over the repercussions of Carl's mistake. Rick was clearly upset and whenever he got worked up, it always made trouble for someone else. They didn't need more trouble and certainly not any concerning him. Daryl thought about running after Rick and telling him Carl didn't mean anything by it but by the time he looked up, Rick was out of sight and Sasha and Karen were nearing with an ice chest. He'd never been happier to see two women before in his life. He could give them the meat, send Carl along with them, then he'd be free to return to the woods for an afternoon hunt.

As Daryl finished with the deer, Sasha and Karen took the smaller game animals and placed them in the chest. Thankfully they engaged themselves in small talk or killing walkers and left Carl and Daryl to their own doings. Daryl could hear Carl jab his knife into the log and pull it out only to stick it back in. He half thought the kid was going to bolt the first chance he got and was mildly surprised Carl had chosen to remain at his side.

"Oh good, Carol's coming down to help too," said Karen causing Daryl to momentarily stop his work and look up. He could tell by Carol's quick pace and the frown etched across her face that she wasn't coming to help. Daryl guessed she had run into Rick and things were about to hit the fan for him.

"Here," said Daryl as he tossed the deer meat into the chest and slammed the lid, "it's all done and ya need to take it back up before it attracts too many more biters." The women didn't question Daryl, especially not with the sharp edge in his voice, and carried the ice chest towards the prison. "C'mon, let's go get cleaned up," he said to Carl.

Carl took a moment to realize Daryl had been talking to him and then had to catch up with the man as he headed towards the creek. Daryl's heavy boots stomped down the trail and to the small stream they collected water from. He sighed heavily as he heard Carl behind him but also Carol as she followed too. Daryl reached the creek first and killed the two nearest walkers. He then dipped his hands under the cool water and splashed some on his arms and rubbed off the animal blood and dirt that stuck to him. Carl knelt beside Daryl and mimicked his actions.

Daryl lowered his head and brought a handful of water to his lips, all too aware of Carol's shadow as it loomed over him. "Are we going to talk about Rick or are you going to continue to sulk out here?" Carol asked, her voice grating to Daryl's ears. The woman looked between both figures hoping one of them would own up to Rick's latest meltdown.

Sighing and seeing no better option, Daryl rose and jerked his head for Carol to follow him. He led them twenty yards away from Carl; a distance where he and Carol could talk safely but also not so far that he couldn't keep an eye on Carl.

Daryl waited as patiently as he could for Carol to say something; the way she stood there staring at him was unnerving. "Rick is upset," she stated blandly, "and I could ask him but I want the truth from _you_."

"Wasn't me," said Daryl as he rubbed his shoulder. "Him and Carl got into it...they started arguin' 'bout goin' off to hunt."

"That doesn't explain why we walked into the prison and found him nearly in shock on the floor," she said furiously. "One way or another I'm going to find out but I'd like to hear it from you first."

Just like her to be sticking her nose where it doesn't belong, thought Daryl. He knew she was right though and she at least had made an effort to speak to him before jumping to too many conclusions.

"Carl called me Dad," said Daryl as quickly as he could get the words out of his mouth.

To Daryl's absolutely dismay, Carol smiled and grabbed his hand. "Daryl, that's wonderful!" she cried and tried to hug him but Daryl pushed her back gently. "It is-means he looks up to you. Rick should be proud."

"Ya lost ya damn mind?" growled Daryl. "I don't need Rick thinkin' I'm tryin' to take his place and that's what he's gonna see." He moved away from Carol and stabbed a male walker that was only a few feet away from joining their conversation.

Carol studied Daryl and pressed her lips into a thin smile before speaking. "You can't tell me that you aren't in the least bit proud of it though."

Daryl broke his gaze and lowered his head when his heart started to pound uncontrollably inside his chest. Why was he ashamed to admit that he _was _proud to be called Dad? He felt Carol's hand creep back into his and her fingers as they wrapped around his. "I'm so happy for you," she whispered and leaned in. Daryl realized what she was doing and turned his head to the side. He winced when Carol's lips skimmed the rough stubble on his cheek. "_Daryl_..." she cooed softly and stroked the skin she had kissed.

Daryl pried both of Carol's hands off him and returned them to her. "I already told ya whatever it is ya want ya can get it from Rick. He's got the honor yer lookin' for." He wanted it to come out more gently than it did and couldn't help but think he sounded cold.

"Don't say that...you don't mean that...not after everything..."

"After everythin'? Like when you said Merle wasn't good for me?" He sidestepped Carol and loaded his crossbow to take down a walker that was edging closer to Carl. The boy noticed the threat first though and saved Daryl an arrow.

"You _are_ better off without him!" Carol barked. "You're the only one that doesn't see it. There's no way Merle would've lasted peacefully here and you'd have run off with him when it came time. Why are you so afraid to let someone care about you?"

"'Cause if ya haven't noticed it hasn't worked for me in the past!" he panted breathlessly. Daryl fought the urge to lash out anymore and released his anger on the fifth walker that had found the trio. "Thought you off all people would understand that."

"I do and that's why I'm here for you...if you'll let me." Carol sighed and wiped a tear from each eye. Daryl ignored her and fired his crossbow at walker number six, and went to retrieve the arrow. "We don't want you to leave!" she called after him.

Daryl huffed as he pulled the arrow out of the walker's skull. He wasn't even give the chance to wipe it off before he was forced to draw the bow and shoot another walker. "_Where are all these damn things comin' from?_" he wondered. From behind him, he heard a small scuffle accompanied by some growls and turned to see Carol slamming her knife into the forehead of a barely clothed female walker.

"I'm not goin' anywhere 'till Maggie and Glenn get married so I'd appreciate it if ya could spread that around," said Daryl tensely.

Carol found a smile she didn't know she had and beamed brightly at the man. "You have no idea how-"

"DARYL!" cried Carl with a blood chilling scream. Daryl looked wildly around for a sign of the boy but couldn't see him. The only indication of where he was were the three walkers that were snapping and clawing viciously at something pinned up against the trunk of a tree.

* * *

**A/N: **That seemed like a good place to leave off at. Nothing like Daryl, Carl, and Carol getting stuck in the middle of a herd...Sorry this update took a little longer than usual but hopefully it was worth it. Thank you for reading and as you know, I love reviews. You'd be surprised with how much they actually influence the story and the more I get, the happier I am (let's me think I've got a good story). So not to try and bribe you but a happy writer is a motivated writer and updates faster...

**Peta2-** ahhhh! I am so sorry! I didn't mean to not reply to you! I had it written on another page and didn't copy it over. Please forgive me! I'm sorry about the Caryl thing. I'm still working out how I want them to go. It's there as sort of a warning because some people are quite against that pairing and I didn't want to ruffle any feathers if something pops up. You totally threw me with the word "comeuppance" and I had to look that one up. But yes, eventually Mason will meet his demise. It might be due to old age or perhaps an arrow in the head. (and thank you for sticking with the fic even though it lacks major Caryl)

**Angela**- holy moley that was an awesome rant! Rick really has gotten out of hand but hopefully Hershel has been able to talk some sense into him. Daryl probably should tell someone else about the traps and the likelihood that they aren't alone in the area but given Rick's current state, sometimes secrets are necessary. But let's say that Daryl does go off on his own and is captured. He could be forced to give over information about the prison like weak spots, guns, and number of inhabitants. In that respect, Mason is correct in that it's dangerous and he could cause more trouble for them all.

**Surplus Imagination-** that's really interesting about the Rick/Shane thing. Currently Rick is accepting the situation with him, Carl, and Daryl but it may not last.

**Therm**- I like your merry-go-round analogy and it's very true. Those two haven't been on the same page in forever.

**Purehalo**- Just curious, who is getting your slaps for that one?

**Peachuzoid-** Yes, anything can happen.

**mrskaz453-** Oh I'm not keeping Mason around just for you. I'm keeping him around for Daryl. I am soooo looking forward to your hag from hell rant on this one…and did you seriously suggest locking Carl in a cell? This is a prison, not a juvenile detention center. Shame on you.

**Deanandjo4ever1- **Daryl isn't Shane but Rick seems him as his competition for Carl's attention/affection.

**CocoChuba-** Carl finally did something right!

**Candra wolfgal97**- (stay gold pony boy, stay gold!) How's your "Overthrow Douchy Rick League" going now? I laughed at the idea of Rick calling Daryl his BFF. Here's a clue for you: Mason will not be dying in a hole. So there.

**Guest2- **thank you for your review! I'm really glad to know I did a good job with Carl calling Daryl Dad because I was a little concerned that it might be too out of place at this point in time.

**Sierra Ramon-** so I'm a little curious…you said the story is better than you thought it would be, is the beginning not so good? I've always had my doubts about the first few chapters and was wondering if I need to rework them at all.


	25. The Herd

DISCLAIMER: I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

WARNINGS: Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

**A/N**: Ok, so mild violence and gore warning on this one…and not just on walkers.

* * *

"DARYL HELP!" screamed Carl, his voice trembling as he fought to stave off the three walkers that had pressed him into the tree.

Daryl cut across Carol and loaded his crossbow, never taking his eyes off Carl. He quickly assessed the situation and realized even the slightest inaccuracy in his shot could send an arrow through a walker's head and into Carl. The two male walkers were out of the question and he fired on the third, a female, dropping it instantly but embedding the arrow in the tree mere inches from Carl's face. Carl whimpered as he was granted a slight reprieve in the number of hands he was fighting and his fear filled eyes locked on Daryl.

"_Nope, not him_," thought Daryl, dropping his crossbow. Unhindered by awkwardness of the bow, Daryl sprinted forward while his hands worked to unsheathe Merle's knife. Daryl's heart lurched when he saw Carl raise one of his legs and try to kick the larger of the two walkers back and lost his balance causing him to slip farther down the trunk of the tree. The boy was losing what slim advantage he had and the walkers pressed in on him.

Daryl had only a few feet to go when he was forced to rethink his strategy. The first walker was bearing down on Carl's neck but was being kept away by Carl's left hand as it clenched a knife. The second was snapping at his right arm, its fingers already tearing through the boy's sleeve. Instead of driving his knife into the head of the second, like he initially planned, Daryl grabbed the walker and threw it off Carl, hoping Carol would take care of it. He stabbed the first one in the back of the head so hard the tip of the blade protruded from the walker's eye. Daryl wiggled the knife free and spun at hearing the other walker growling and lunging at him. He swung the knife between the walker's invading hands and into its forehead. Daryl grunted as the thing slumped forward onto him and the smell of rot filled his nostrils. Grimacing, he pushed it off and withdrew the knife as it fell to the forest floor.

"Are you ok?" yelled Carol as she arrived on the scene.

Daryl ignored the woman and knelt down to check on Carl.

"_Carl_?" questioned Daryl softly. He cupped the boy's chin and raised his head to look him in the eye.

Carl nodded weekly and skimmed his fingers over the holes in his shirt. Daryl grabbed his hand and moved it away. He tore at the fabric and opened it to expose more of the boy's arm and frowned.

Carl's skin was marred with several scratches, some deep enough to draw blood.

"Carol, ya gotta kill the other walkers or keep 'em distracted for a bit," said Daryl quickly.

"We have to get him to the prison," fretted Carol. "He needs to see Hershel."

"Not enough time for that: we're in the middle of a damn herd...Give me yer knife," he said to Carl, his grip on Carl's arm tightening. Both Carol and Carl gasped as the boy tried to squirm away but Daryl didn't budge.

"No, you can't!" cried Carol furiously. "It's just a few scratches!"

"Ya and we don't know what they do!" shot back Daryl. "I'm not gonna risk it."

Carl sensed what was about to transpire and kicked out at Daryl, catching the man in the stomach. Daryl exhaled sharply; his inability to breathe left him temporarily stunned. The boy scrambled to get away but ended up crawling haphazardly to seek shelter behind Carol. When Daryl realized he no longer had control over Carl, he abandoned his own pain and launched himself in the kid's direction. He caught Carl's lower legs and rolled him over.

"_Ya wanna live or not?_" he growled in Carl's ear.

"_Please Daryl…no…_"

Daryl stiffed as he felt the tip of someone's knife jab him in the back of his neck.

"He said no, _Daryl_."

Carol tried to make her voice sure and strong because she knew Daryl would pick up on any sign of weakness and disregard her as being a real danger.

"Get off him—_now_," she warned.

Daryl sighed deeply and dipped his head. "Thing is…I wasn't really askin'…"

He figured Carol's threat was empty and wrenched Carl's right arm up. The act was met with generous resistance from Carl but he wasn't strong enough to fight Daryl back. Daryl decided to take a page from Rick's book and straddled Carl's stomach in an effort to keep them both from hurting themselves.

Carl's wiggling increased when he felt Daryl pull his knife away and take it in his own hand. "Daryl…no…don't…_please_..." he sobbed and tried to free himself unsuccessfully.

"I'm not going to let you do this," said Carol, her voice wavering.

"Then stop me," dared Daryl, his eyes piercing into Carol's. The woman froze, the knife in her hand being rendered useless. "C'mon Carl…ya gotta trust me," he said turning back to the boy under him.

Carl bit his lip and closed his eyes. Daryl waited for him to nod then touched the knife to the skin above the bleeding scratches. "Gonna hurt," whispered Daryl, "but ya can take it. I know ya can."

Carl nodded once again and waited for the pain, tears forming at the corners off his eyes.

Daryl pinched the area above the highest scratch and pressed the blade firmly into Carl's skin. He felt Carl tense and withdraw into the ground but kept his arm blessedly still. The tip of the knife poked out the skin on the other side, blood flowing freely from both ends and dripping into the dirt. Carol muttered something from behind Daryl then removed her presence to deal with a walker.

"Yer doin' good," praised Daryl. "This is the hard part then it's over."

Though Daryl was working as quickly and tenderly as he could, it wasn't enough to keep Carl from quivering and biting back a cry. He thought he was doing good but wept aloud when the knife started to slide through the deepest layer of tissue Daryl was comfortable with cutting into. Daryl continued to work the knife down the length of Carl's arm all the way to his elbow where the scratches stopped. He twisted the blade slightly and flicked his wrist to completely sever the skin. He then pulled the skin back at the top of the wound and drew his knife though it.

"Keep yer eyes closed," advised Daryl. "Carol, cut up the bottom of yer shirt. It's probably cleaner than his or mine…"

Carol came running back over and used her own knife to cut the bottom six inches off her shirt and passed it to Daryl. He took it in his bloody hands and bound it securely around Carl's bicep. The light fabric was rapidly soaked and Carol cut off another strip and offered it to Daryl. He fastened the second one over the first then added a piece from his own as a tourniquet above the wound.

"Good job," Daryl commended Carl as he moved off him. "Yer gonna be fineーdon't look at it though," he said when Carl opened his eyes. He continued to shake and Daryl looped his arm around him to get him up and to his feet.

"We have to get back to the prison...there's too many walkers out here. I don't know where this herd came from," said Carol. She ran to retrieve Daryl's crossbow and brushed the dirt from it and presented it to its owner.

Daryl took the crossbow and loaded it without putting thought into it. He surveyed the forest around them and spotted no less than a dozen walkers that he classified as being an imminent threat. They snarled and growled while stumbling closer to the trio, the scent of Carl's blood driving them into a frenzy. The path back to the prison appeared rather populated as well and those too smelled the blood and changed the direction they were going. Daryl spun once and pushed Carl between he and Carol as he took in the faces of the dead that were creeping in from every way he looked.

"We can take them...I have my gun," suggested Carl.

"_No_. Now's a good time for ya to learn ya can't always shoot yourself outta every situation," replied Daryl with great remorse. Daryl guessed they had two guns between the three of them unless Carol was keeping hers a secret. In case she was indeed unarmed, Daryl pulled his pistol from the waist of his pants and shoved it into Carol's hands. He looked again at Carl and found him much too pale and hoped it wasn't due to blood loss but rather the shock of having a chunk of his skin removed. They were going to have to make a run for it and Carol paired with a weakened Carl were not his ideal partners for getting through a herd.

Daryl checked to his left and saw an opening and pointed. "We're gonna go left and come at the prison from the side. It looks like these things are comin' from the west and there should be fewer that way. Carl, stay between me and Carol no matter what and remember, we've got sixteen bullets and six arrows...gotta make 'em count." As Daryl finished issuing orders, he picked his own knife back up and gripped it tightly. He wasn't going to let them go down without a fight.

Daryl started the group's movement by firing on the first walker in their way. Running by, he yanked his arrow from the walker's head and paused to reload. Carol and Carl swept by him and he heard his gun being shot. He looked up to see Carol dropping a male that could've been killed by knife. "Ya gotta stab 'em if ya can!" yelled Daryl.

Carol didn't respond and continued to pick her way forward with Carl right after her. Daryl raced to catch up and shot one of two walkers that lunged around a tree and tried to grab Carl. Again, Carol shot the second one when a knife would've done.

"Damn it woman!" roared Daryl. "Ya gonna get us killed!"

"My knife is too small," complained Carol. "I don't feel comfortable using it like this! Don't get mad at me."

"I ain't mad at ya," said Daryl calmly. "Take mine, it'll give ya a better reach."

Carol's eyes lit up briefly as Daryl offered his knife in exchange for the gun. He tucked the gun back into his jeans hoping it could stay there. They started running again with Daryl in the lead and Carl sandwiched between he and Carol. They were doing a decent enough job at evading the thickest concentration of walkers and Daryl could see a break in the trees ahead of them. He rushed forward and killed two walkers, one with his crossbow and the other by Carol's smaller knife and beckoned his followers on. "C'mon, c'mon," he urged, "yer almostー"

Daryl didn't hear the approaching walker over the growling of the dozens behind them. He had slowed to let Carol and Carl go ahead of him to put himself between them and the majority of the herd. They had run by when Daryl felt the cold and rotting hands of the dead seize his shoulder and the splitting of fabric as the walker's teeth threatened to pierce his skin.

* * *

UPDATED: Ok, so just a few personal notes about the story...Carol is the most difficult character for me to write, mainly because the show does such a lousy time developing her story. I see her as a strong character that can now stand up to anyone, including Daryl, which may cause them to butt heads. She stood up to Daryl, Andrea, and Merle last season alone. In this fic, she was happy Daryl got called dad because she wants to see Daryl become a new man and open up and accept that they do love him. He isnt quite willing to do that yet. Also I know it seems like she isn't the best at killing walkers etc, but once again, she only killed a few in the show and even those were from the safety of the fence. Last chapter Daryl referenced the time Carol said Merle wasn't good for him and I took that from one of the episodes (just incase it sounded too cold to come from her). The next, sorry these responses are a little short, I love all your reviews/favorites/follows.

Surplus Imagination- good call and Carl does need a mentor or he'll become a mini-governor.

mrskaz453- well...I'm sure you love Carol after that one, especially if Daryl gets bit because of her.

Deanandjo4ever1- I never considered Daryl as an uncle but now that you mention it, I do! Wish my uncles were that cool.

Peachuzoid- Carol is freaking me out too. I really don't know what I'm going to do with here haha.

CocoChuba- no mason again! And thank you!

Angela- and I leave you hanging again! Rick flew over the cuckoos nest and hasn't come back yet. We will assess if you are correct about the Daryl thing...

Candra- haha and please don't stab me with a pen.

Guest- tell me how you really feel about Carol ;)

Sierra Ramon- ok, I didn't think you where saying it started off bad but I wasn't sure. I don't personally care for the first few chapters and that was why I was wondering. Glad we got that all cleared up now :) Oh and you better get used to cliffhangers, I like those...a lot

Hell Hath No- now who is getting attacked by walkers? Poor mason...no love.

Lucky713- and Judith may not even be Rick's kid! But he still loves her and would hate to see anyone come between him and one of his children. I really liked what you said about the Shane/Daryl- Rick relationship.

AddictedtoCaffine- carol sucks, or at least for now.

Sorry if I left anyone out...I don't think I did...


	26. Safe

DISCLAIMER: I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

WARNINGS: Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

A mixture of surprise and fear welled up inside Daryl. He almost couldn't comprehend the fact that there was a walker on him and he had honestly not seen it coming. He resigned himself to the reality that he was about to be bit but rolled his shoulder forward anyways in case there was the slightest of chances the move could throw the walker.

It worked.

The walker's teeth skimmed across Daryl's skin but did not break through. For a moment he was afraid they had and could feel a trail of slime they left behind. In his haste to get away, Daryl jerked forward and lost his footing, falling hard to the ground. He flipped to his back and raised Carol's small knife defensively. The walker lusted after Daryl and he waited for it to fall on him so he could end its miserable existence. Its decaying hands reached for him but were then pushed away. Panting, Carol rushed into view and drove the dead man back; Daryl's knife implanted firmly in its pale forehead. The walker fell to the earth and was no longer a concern to any of the living.

Carol looked down on Daryl in alarm. She knew just how close he'd come to being bit and wasn't certain that he escaped unharmed. Daryl blinked slowly as his hand ran over his shoulder searching for any torn skin. Carol crouched down next to him and inspected the area for herself.

"You…I, I don't think…" Carol frowned as Daryl's hand smeared both blood from Carl and that of walkers over the spot making it impossible to tell if any was actually from him. "I don't think it got you," she finally decided.

"Gonna know pretty soon," said Daryl. He accepted a hand up from Carol and they started after Carl. The boy had distanced himself from the adults and made his way into the opening between the woods and the prison fence. "Go for the gate!" yelled Daryl as he and Carol burst into the opening. Carl cut through the tall grass as he doubled back towards the gate.

On the inside of the fence, the call for walkers had been raised and those able to had taken arms. At first they didn't think too much of the appearance of the walkers. The prison was always attracting them but Michonne thought it wasn't right when they appeared to be going after something in the trees rather than lurching up against the fence. Her suspicion was confirmed when she heard Daryl's gun being fired and realized someone was caught outside the safety of the fence.

"Carl, Daryl, and Carol are out there," said Karen as the prison assembled. "Sasha and I were just down there. Daryl was working on skinning a deer…they must have been attracted to the blood."

"Are you kidding me?" asked Glenn. "How did they miss a damn herd?"

"It didn't seem like it was that bad," offered Sasha. "I mean, there were more walkers than usual but nothing that Daryl couldn't handle. The last I saw him, he was taking Carl into the woods to clean off in the creek and I think Carol followed them. They must've run into them in there."

"It doesn't matter where they found the herd…we've got to rescue them," said Maggie. "Somebody needs to go get Rick."

"I'll find him and you be careful," said Hershel before he went to locate Rick. The group didn't need any more words of encouragement and took off towards the gates. Glenn shouted various orders though they were lost over the sounds of feet slapping the road and the jostling of guns. They were halfway to their destination when Carl popped out of the woods.

"Over there!" yelled Glenn and he pointed towards the boy. A moment later Daryl and Carol emerged behind him and the three headed towards the gates.

Glenn reached the gate first and unlocked it. Michonne darted through and within a second, sliced the nearest walker's head in half. She moved on to another and began to clear a path into the prison. Maggie and Tyreese opened fire and brought down several walkers, not caring about the added attention using guns would draw. Karen and Sasha held back at the gate to keep anything unwelcome from sneaking in. Freed from his gate guarding obligation, Glenn chased after Michonne and picked off any and every walker he put in the crosshairs of his gun.

Carl was swept into the safe zone created by the reach of Michonne's katana. She wanted to stay longer and offer Carol and Daryl protection but the bloody bandage around Carl's arm worried her more. "_Prison_," she said and pushed him towards the gate. She cut through three more walkers as she escorted the boy to safety.

When Daryl saw that Carl was no longer in danger, he held back to provide Carol with more cover. He knew the others were trying their hardest to defend them, but in their haste they had gotten careless. The walkers Tyreese had shot were getting back up off the ground after not being hit in the head. Even some of the ones Maggie hit were knocked over but then stood again. It'd do them all more good if they'd just take their time and make sure their bullets were being used effectively. Daryl was forced to stop and deal with a pair of small walkers that managed to get between him and Carol. They looked like they could have been brothers when living and Daryl sent them to their final deaths with the same arrow.

He yanked the arrow from the skull of the second brother and stabbed a third walker with it. A second later he saw Glenn and Carol cross paths and knew she'd be safe while protected by his gun. Maggie provided her with additional fire and Carol was able to clear the gate. "Hurry!" Glenn cried and shot a walker that was stumbling upon Daryl too quickly. He didn't need to be reminded to hurry and Daryl pushed himself for more speed. As the pair met up, they abandoned their attempts at killing and focused on zigzagging around the walkers and to the gate. Glenn let Daryl through first, then waited for Maggie before closing and locking the gate behind them. He had only just stepped away when four walkers hurled themselves against the metal fence causing it to shake.

"There's going to be too many of them," said Maggie. "Look at them all..."

The inhabitants of the prison stood by helplessly as dozens of the dead poured out of the woods and came bearing down on the fence. Their fingers wove through the chain link, clawing for the fresh flesh on the other side. They gnashed their teeth and growled fericiously for the blood that was almost within reach. Five additional walkers pressed themselves against the gate causing Carl to stumbled backwards in fear. He tripped over a rock in the road and fell to the ground with a small cry.

"_Carl!_" cried Maggie and she rushed to his side. Before he could protect his wounded arm, Maggie grabbed it firmly on either side of the bandage. "What happened?" she asked Carol and Daryl.

"He got scratched," said Carol grimly. "Daryl..."

Maggie's hand hovered over the bandage now unsure of if she wanted to expose the wound. Knowing that Daryl was involved and there was that much blood, had her believing there probably wasn't much skin left on Carl's upper arm. "He needs to see my dad," she said and helped Carl up.

"Ok..." said Glenn, shaking his head to clear out the thought of Daryl's handiwork. "Michonne, Karen, Sasha, and Tyreese you need to stay here and start killing these things. The fence won't be able to hold back an entire herd. The rest of us need to find Hershel and Rick."

"Oh, I don't think you have to look very far," said Karen as she pointed to the top of the hill.

Hershel and Rick were on their way down along with Mr. Mason from Woodbury, all moving as fast as the old vet would allow. Daryl's heart did a free fall when he saw the expression on Rick's face change from that of worry to anger. He knew Rick had seen seen Carl's arm. There was no hiding it now and no way to explain what happened before Rick would jump to the worst conclusions. This was his fault: it was on him. He had taken Carl out against Rick's wishes then he had been distracted and Carl had gotten hurt when his back was turned. But not just hurt. A twisted ankle or a bump on the head could be mended. These were walker scratches. Carl had been attacked on his watch. They had no way of knowing how bad scratches could be and if they produced the same outcome as a bite. If they were fatal, Daryl wasn't sure he'd been able to act fast enough and the damage could be irreversible. If they were nothing to worry about and only the bite was deadly, then Daryl had just filleted Carl's arm and opened it up for an infection that could kill him.

Daryl watched Mr. Mason's mouth twitched as he said something to Rick. Hershel glared at the man and appeared to counter whatever was said. Rick shook his head and Hershel, with an extra long stride on his crutches, stopped in front of Rick. He turned back to the sheriff and placed a hand in the center of his chest. Rick paid the man no heed and after sidestepping him, broke into a run.

When Rick was forty yards out, he drew his gun. At thirty yards, Maggie and Glenn simultaneously stepped in front of Carl. After ten more, Daryl become aware of the gun still tucked into his waistband. He assessed Rick's trajectory once again and reached for it. Daryl's eyes never left Rick as he pointed the gun at the man. He knew that as soon as he took his eyes off him he'd find himself staring down the barrel of Rick's python.

* * *

A/N: I'm sorry this update took longer to get out and that it's not the best. I've been a bit down lately and not even writing has been able to get me out of it. That's probably more than you need to know but if the story gets darker, at least you'll have a sense of why. Sorry again and I'll try to get an update (a better one) out soon.


	27. A New Set of Rules

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

"_He's been bit!_"

"_He was not bit!_"

"_Rick, Daryl put the guns down!_"

"_The kid was bit damn it!_"

"_It was a scratch!_"

"_RICK!_"

Rick stepped closer to Daryl, the two only a few feet apart. Both pointed their guns steadily at the other's head. Rick's entire being trembled as his thumb pulled the hammer back with a click that was heard round the prison yard. Daryl's eyes flicked from Rick's hand then back up to his face without a blink. No one else dared move in case it would startle the men and have a trigger pulled accidentally.

"What the _hell_ happened out there?" Rick demanded of Daryl, eyes darkening.

"It was an accident—he was scratched!" cried Carol.

"From _Daryl_," said Rick, anger seeping into his voice.

Daryl exhaled and lowered his gun. There wasn't any point on keeping it raised when he wasn't going to shoot it. Maybe a year ago, but not now. Rick had a right to be mad and threatening him wasn't going to do either of them any favors.

"He got scratched…I took care of it," said Daryl firmly. He squared his shoulders and drew himself up to his full height, ready to take on Rick in whatever means necessary.

"_How_ did he get scratched?" snarled Rick, glaring down Daryl.

Daryl tensed, his breath catching in his throat.

"I wasn't watchin' him…turned my back—"

"You turned your back on my son? MY SON!" Rick's harsh voice cut across Daryl causing him to flinch. "Carl is _my_ son!"

"I know he is! That's why I did what I did!" yelled Daryl, his building anger coming to his defense. "Ya think I'd give a shit 'bout anyone else?"

"No, I don't think you do," said Rick earnestly.

"The hell ya—"

"You obviously don't care about me and what I think or you wouldn't have taken Carl out in the first place," said Rick swiftly. Daryl's mouth snapped shut and his lips pressed together in a thin line, the edges tugging downward. "Then when I tell you I disapprove you keep Carl out there and he gets scratched."

"Are scratches the same as a bite?" asked Mr. Mason. "If so…"

"We don't know that yet," said Hershel calmly. "We don't have much experience there."

"I'm ok," said Carl even though his voice was not convincing. "I am—really. I feel fine. Daryl helped me."

Rick's gaze shifted slightly to his son where he got a good look at the boy's arm. The temporary dressing Daryl had applied was sodden and blood leaked out from beneath and ran down to Carl's fingertips. Rick wanted to praise him and tell him he was taking it like a man but the words were lost to him. Carl nearly died due to some stupid and careless mistake by of all people, Daryl. Daryl really was becoming a danger to the group: his stubbornness and inability to listen were getting in the way.

Rick finally lowered his gun but kept it out thinking he may still need it. Daryl remained rigid while the others relaxed feeling the two would be able to make peace like they had so many times in the past.

"Carl, you are not to leave the prison until your arm is completely healed—and I mean it. You are not to set foot outside these gates unless Hershel or I allow it," said Rick. Carl glared up at Rick and shook his head in disapproval. "No, I'm serious. This has to stop. You are also to stay away from Daryl."

"You can't—"

"Yes I can, Carl. Today was too close and I'm not going to risk any more stupid accidents, especially any that concern _my_ son…" said Rick with sharp glance to Daryl. Daryl's face remained set, not giving Rick the benefit of showing emotion. "Tyreese," said Rick turning to the other man, "I want you to make sure Carl doesn't leave the prison until he gets the ok and be mindful of who he spends time with…"

Tyreese nodded in approval and acceptance at his new mission while Daryl dropped his calm façade and looked outraged.

"I'm right here; what the hell are ya tellin' him that for?" he bellowed.

"Because I'm under the impression that you don't listen," said Rick, closing in on Daryl.

"Just like his brother," mused Mr. Mason smugly, clearly trying to get a rise out of the remaining Dixon.

"This ain't none of yer business!" roared Daryl as he abandoned his grievances with Rick and stalked towards the head of Woodbury.

"Oh, I think it is. You and your people brought me here…that makes all of this my business. If Carl is infected, he's going to be a danger to everyone," said Mason.

Daryl clenched his jaw and in one final step, grabbed a hold of Mr. Mason's shirt and yanked him forward. "He's not gonna be infected…I took care of it in time."

"And if you didn't…" whispered Mason as he leaned next to Daryl's ear, "if Carl dies, you'll be right behind him."

Carol didn't hear what Mason had said but she rushed to the pair and forced her way between them. Mason smiled as Daryl's grasp on him was involuntarily loosened and he stepped back a free man. "Please, enough of this," she begged.

"Yes, it has been enough," agreed Rick. Daryl's eyes bore down on Mr. Mason, never once leaving the man to glare at Rick. "My decision stands. Carl, you will not leave the prison without permission and you will stay with either me, Hershel, or Tyreese at all times. Daryl, I know rules are a difficult concept for you to understand, but try to for just a minute."

Daryl drew in a deep breath and held it in hopes it would keep him from doing anything he'd regret. He was too distracted by Rick and Mr. Mason's not so subtle warning to notice Carol had wrapped her hand around his left wrist.

"I can't stop you from going out there," continued Rick, "but you have to take another _adult_ with you every time you go. I don't care who it is, but it's too dangerous for anyone to be wandering around alone. If it had been just you and you'd been caught in this herd—"

"I wouldn't a been caught in the herd if I was alone," said Daryl.

"I don't care. I'm trying to keep everyone in this prison safe. So please, help me," finished Rick.

"Fine!" shouted Daryl, his anger getting the best of him. "I'll get an escort whenever I go out. But I'm tellin' ya…no one else woulda done what I did for Carl."

"And I'll thank you when we're sure he'll live," answered Rick.

"Keep yer thanks," said Daryl as he brushed by the man. Carol was tugged briefly along until Daryl realized he was dragging her and shook her loose. Daryl stormed back to the cell block without a care for those gathered around the gates. He'd done his part; they could clear the walkers off the fence on their own. Carol tentatively followed him, ready to be there for whatever Daryl needed.

Daryl trekked through the prison stopping only to grab a water bottle and some canned fruit to eat. Carol quietly echoed his actions and went with him to his cell. Inside the cell, Daryl shrugged his crossbow off his back and to the foot of his bed. He then sat on the edge of the bed and stabbed the can of peaches with his knife to open it. He drank some of the juice then picked out a peach slice with his fingers and ate it without joy. Daryl sighed as Carol set his crossbow down on the floor to make room for herself. He took Carol's can of fruit and opened it like his then handed it back. They both ate silently, not needing words to convey how they felt.

When Daryl finished his peaches, he pitched the empty can out the cell door where it tumbled off the second floor landing and clattered on the floor below. He sighed heavily and leaned back into the wall, pressing his eyes closed. His entire body ached and his hangover paired with fighting off walkers left him drained. More so than usual, he thought. It was only mid afternoon and his body was begging him for sleep. Maybe he wasn't in as good a shape as he believed. The prison had babied him while he was recovering from Bill's knife attack and gave him more food than he felt comfortable with eating, giving him a false sense of the level of his strength. Then he went running around with Rick and gotten drunk and barely gave himself time to recover before heading out again. Daryl was surprised he hadn't dropped from exhaustion sooner.

"Are you ok?" asked Carol softly.

"Tired..." muttered Daryl. "Tired off all this bullshit."

"Rick?" she guessed. Daryl gave her a small nod. "He's been having a tough time with Carl and we've all had trouble adjusting to the people from Woodbury."

"He's been lettin' that old Mason guy whisper in his ear—believin' him too. We've spent over a year together watchin' out for the other's back and as soon as Woodbury shows up…"

"He has to be that way." Daryl cracked his eyes open and peeked over at Carol. "He does. We can't throw them out and Mason is their sort of a leader to them. Rick is stretched thin right now and he's trying to keep the peace. If he sided with you or the prison every time, Woodbury is going to feel alienated and when it comes down to it, their numbers are more than ours."

"Naw, it's not that…it's Mason," said Daryl with a twitch of his lips. "He doesn't feel right. Hell he said he didn't like me after somethin' Merle did. Thing is though, Merle has rubbed enough people the wrong way but he got along alright at Woodbury. He kept mostly to himself or to the Governor and his men. He didn't mingle with the regulars."

"Do you think he's a spy for the Governor?" asked Carol anxiously.

"I can't say…maybe it was somethin' Merle did. Never was the most honest. Might've made a pass at the guy's granddaughter…I don't know," said Daryl weakly. "And Rick's been comin' down too hard on Carl. Kid's just tryin' to fit in and be useful..." Daryl's voice trailed off and Carol couldn't help but think of all the times she watched Daryl trying to find his place in the group.

"We all are…You're thinking about leaving, aren't you?" Carol looked carefully at Daryl, her eyes narrowing to gauge his response.

"Why do ya keep askin' me that? I told ya I wasn't goin' anywhere 'till Maggie's wedding," said Daryl sharply.

Carol's eyes began to glisten and she hastily swiped away the forming tears. "I, I was thinking…_we_ could go someplace…find a new group…or a cabin and it'd be just us…" her heart started to beat faster at the slim chance that Daryl might go for her offer.

Daryl sighed and shifted uncomfortably as his stomach suddenly turned. He pressed his hand against it and tilted his head farther back to keep from losing his lunch. He winced and breathed heavily through his nose as a particularly sharp pain kicked him in the gut. Instantly he could feel his body breakout in a warm sweat that slicked his skin.

"I told ya I'm waitin'—" was as far as Daryl got before another pang had him nearly doubled over. Carol quickly placed a concerned hand on Daryl's back and found him much too warm. She frowned at how one moment he was his tough self and the next he appeared to be in a substantial amount of pain.

Knowing Carol had noticed his dilemma and was worried about him, Daryl tried to mask his pain. He attempted to straighten himself but his stomach was knotted together and kept him bowed over. Carol wanted to make sure Daryl was all right but also didn't want to be an intrusion in his suffering. She finally busied herself with picking a hole in one of Daryl's blankets but remained aware of how he was doing. In ten minutes, Daryl hadn't moved or relaxed and his face was set in battling this unexpected illness. Carol brushed her hand over his back in an attempt at soothing him, or at least reassuring him she was still there and would help him in any way she could. After several more minutes, Daryl finally regained his ability to sit normally, though Carol wasn't sure he was better. His eyes were still closed and his crinkled brow showed obvious signs of distress. Carol ran her hand from Daryl's back and across his neck up to cup his chin. Delirious, he pressed into her hand, desperate for the coolness and relief it provided from the heat that assaulted his body.

"Daryl you're..." Carol's breath faltered as she remembered the walker that had, or nearly had attacked Daryl. "Daryl, your shoulder..."

Daryl's hand immediately flew to his back but Carol beat him to it. She didn't care what he was going to say and she tore open a larger hole where the walker had bite through his shirt. She poured some of her water over the area to rinse away Carl's blood that had been smeared over it. Daryl turned his head to watch her work, eager for her assessment.

"It didn't get you," she finally decided. There was no broken skin, not even a mark left from where the walker's teeth had run against him.

"Then I'm just hungover," said Daryl gruffly. He quickly upgraded it to the worst hangover of his life and knew sleep was the only cure.

"I'm going to get Hershel," said Carol as she stood. "He needs to take a look at you."

"Don't bother him," said Daryl. He took advantage of Carol's departure from his bed and laid down on it. "He's gonna be workin' on Carl too...kid needs him more than me."

Carol bit her lip and watched Daryl settle himself into bed. He seemed a little more at peace but the sweating still bothered her. She wasn't going to call it a fever because that'd imply he'd been bit.

Carol remained in Daryl's cell a few more seconds then backed out. Daryl heard her soft steps fade away and decided he was finally alone. He drained the rest of his water and that of Carol's and drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews/favs/follows. You guys seriously make my day. Sorry this update took a little longer...still not feeling the best and all.


	28. Always Something

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

"_Fine_", thought Carol. "_If he doesn't want Hershel then I'll find someone else._"

Carol was not in any mood to sit around idly and watch Daryl become sicker. He was so blasted stubborn and wasn't going to be any good to himself or the group until he was well. Unfortunately her number one choice was the vet but he was assuredly preoccupied with tending to Carl. She returned to the fence and stole Maggie and Glenn away from killing the walkers that were piling up. She quietly explained the dilemma back in the cell block and told them not to look worried or else they'd have Mr. Mason poking around making things worse.

She brought them into Daryl's cell where they found him asleep on his side. His sweating appeared to have lessened some and Carol noticed the two empty water bottles strewn across the floor. Both Maggie and Glenn inspected the almost-bite on Daryl's shoulder and cleaned the area once more. Daryl never stirred during the procedure, or he just didn't care and let the others do as they wanted. The young couple agreed that Daryl was suffering from the combined effects of his drinking bender, inadequate food and water, and general exhaustion. Secretly though they couldn't rule out that possibly even coming into contact with a walker's teeth was enough to make one sick. Tyreese called the three called back to the fence as another wave of walkers crashed into it. Before heading to defend the prison, they alerted Hershel to their concerns over Daryl and the vet promised to check in on him when he wasn't busy with Carl.

Carl, for the most part, wished that Daryl had indeed taken his whole arm off. The pain rivaled what he had experienced after his surgery and he couldn't move his fingers without feeling the pull and then burning farther up his arm. His arm had been cleaned and bandaged which he had endured under the watchful eye of his father. Hershel had given him all the painkillers and antibiotics he could and Rick made him as comfortable as possible in his cell. Carl refused to speak to anyone, except when requested to by Hershel. Eventually Carl was able to find relief when sleep claimed him.

Rick knew Carl was mad at him and accepted his silent treatment as punishment. He would rather have a son that was angry at him than a dead son. The only time they had a closer call was with Hershel. Rick watched Carl sleep and his initial fury over the situation lessened. Daryl was in no means off the hook but he had potentially saved Carl's life. That didn't mean he was going to take back his decision to limit the amount of time he let his son around the man. It really was a shame Rick thought. Daryl was a good man, reckless at times, but he put the group first when needed. And he seemed to have earned Carl's respect; a rare feat. Maybe once Carl was better and Daryl was back to being sensible, he'd loosen up and let the pair have some free reign. In the meantime, Tyreese could step in and help when Rick was unable to.

Rick watched Carl sleep for the first few hours before trading off with Tyreese and headed to the fences to kill walkers as the sun set. The work was tiring and the herd appeared to be attacking the fence from every direction. Maggie, Glenn, and Michonne were sent to the back of the prison to fight off those that were tearing down the already damaged fence. Most of Woodbury could not handle the strain of killing walkers under the Georgia sun and made themselves useful by preparing dinner and taking it to those working outside. Rick had spent most of the time by Mr. Mason until the man's incessant grumblings of "why isn't Daryl out here? He attracted this herd" got the best of him. He couldn't take the constant pestering anymore and moved his walker killing operation to the far side of Karen. The woman gave him a genuinely warm smile as he approached and Rick tried to match it.

"Doing ok?" asked Rick.

"Just fine. Wish they'd stop though," she replied with a nod towards the pile of corpses at the foot of the fence. "But at least they're out there and we're in here."

"Yes," agreed Rick. "I suppose that's a good way to look at it."

"I've never seen them do this before…it's like they're traveling in a pack or something."

"We call 'em herds," said Rick.

Karen stabbed a female walker through the fence with her knife and Rick cringed as he took care of what was once a small boy with his machete.

"I guess that's fitting," said Karen thoughtfully. "I hope someone is still out there working on a cure and maybe one day this will all be over."

Rick stared at Karen in amazement. That was the most optimism he'd heard in months.

"There's got to be a mobile lab or something set up by the government or army," continued Karen. "Maybe on a ship or an island…someplace. This can't be all that's left. After all we've done in the world, after all we've built, all the technology…we can't end like this. They'll get a cure one day," she said with another smile at Rick.

"I hope you're right," Rick agreed for the second time. "There's got to be someone left." He stabbed another walker to allow Karen a break. The woman checked behind her then leaned against the fence to face Rick.

"I've been thinking—and not that it's a reflection on you—but this place needs a morale boost," said Karen as she caught Rick's eye. "It's just that it's a prison: it was never meant to be comfortable or a home," she went on to clarify.

"What are you suggesting?" asked Rick; open to any ideas to bring the prison back together.

"Maybe some new paint inside…a rug or two…furniture that isn't metal and bolted to the floor," she said with a grin. "It doesn't matter how old you are, you can still hold a paintbrush."

Rick turned around to face the prison in the dimming light. The sunset cast it in an orange and pink glow that made it almost appear welcoming. That illusion would be shattered though as soon as the sun rose in ten hours. The inside was just as dark and dingy as they day they discovered it. They'd cleaned it up so it didn't smell as bad and taken off the months of dust that accumulated but it remained a prison.

"I think you're right," said Rick as he imagined the cells being transformed into mini apartments that people would actually want to spend time in. "We _could_ do that. Paint, furniture, carpets, art, books. We have generators so in theory we could even get a TV or music for special occasions."

"TV? What's that?" joked Karen.

"True…not that we'd be able to get this group to agree on a movie to watch," laughed Rick as Karen's warmth spread to him. Karen smiled but then turned sharply as the growls from a walker stumbled nearer. "I've got it," said Rick as he moved to end it so Karen wouldn't have to. He stabbed the walker and withdrew his machete but his left hand remained clutching the chain link fence. A moment later he felt Karen's physical warmth as her hand closed over his.

"Just so you know, I am a single parent too and I know how hard it is. You don't have to do it alone. If you ever need anything or anyone to talk to or to listen…you know where my cell is," said Karen in a soft voice. "My son Noah is a little older than Carl but I could get him to spend some time with him. I think I worry too much about him. He has some pretty bad asthma and I have a hard time letting him out of my sight and certainly not on a run."

"Is he doing ok?" asked Rick.

"Better than he was at Woodbury. I've been trying to keep him inside and fortunately the Governor did get us a fair amount of medicine for his inhaler so we'll be set for a while. I just have to ask that if he takes a guard shift that it's during the day so he can rest at night."

"That's not a problem," said Rick. He pulled his hand off the fence and gave Karen's a firm squeeze. "And thank you…"

The two were forced apart due to an impending surge of ten walkers clamoring at the fence. They stayed near enough together and passed gentle glances between them when their attention wasn't immediately required on the walkers.

Right before twilight turned to night, Tyreese came out and set down kindling for a fire to be shared by Karen and Rick. All along the fence similar fires were lit wherever someone needed light to kill by. Rick fretted momentarily over the possible attention the light would draw from alive eyes, but his concerns were abated when Karen noted that someone would have to be truly insane to be running in the midst of a herd. They could deal with the inconvenience of the walkers if it meant keeping the Governor at bay for an extra night.

The attack on the prison carried on throughout the night. They were granted brief lulls and a few caught a little sleep right out in the lush grass of the field. The air was pleasant enough so Rick didn't receive any complaints as he checked on his fighters. There was no sense in complaining anyways. They had no other option: kill the walkers as they came to the fence or let the prison be overrun. As Rick became wearier and his attacks more sluggish, he wanted to borrow some of Karen's hope and wish that the onslaught of the dead would finally end. It was always something.

* * *

To say that Daryl felt like total and utter crap was an understatement. There wasn't an inch of his body that was spared from the pain of whatever he was suffering from. It was so bad at one point he figured he must've been bit until he remembered he'd also taken a hard fall and knocked himself around then. Most of the time Daryl drifted in the place that wasn't quite sleep but not fully conscious either. He'd jerk awake at every little noise from a cell door sliding shut to a sneeze produced by one of the kids. He lost count of the number of times he told his body that it should be resting. He knew he was weak and he needed to regain his strength or they'd really give him shit about not doing his part.

Daryl couldn't get his mind to shut down though. He wanted nothing more than to raise the white flag and surrender. If he wasn't so drained he'd pry himself from bed and get some of those sleeping pills that Carol used. They had done the trick. But they were downstairs and he did not have the motivation or energy to get them. So until the next wave of sleep would hit him, Daryl would think over his situation at the prison.

Carol, Carl, Rick, and Mason were his main concerns.

He considered Carol his closest confidant although she was a bit of a mess. He never quite understood the way she reacted after Sophia's death and that had always plagued him. They were friends and he hated himself for pushing her away at times. She was a good woman and she deserved better than that. But the idea of them going off together felt weird and Daryl wasn't about to abandon Rick and the prison just yet.

If anyone asked Daryl why he had decided to stay, his answer would be because of Maggie and Glenn's wedding, and it one point that was the truth. Now however, he was sticking around for Carl. The boy was flirting with the wrong path. The kid needed to feel useful and like he belonged and Daryl had been down that road before. Rick wasn't doing shit to get him under control or offer him guidance. Carl held potential and was more than likely going to lead the group when he was old enough. If he wasn't brought up right, he'd turn out like the Governor and the world already had one of those.

Rick was a mess on a whole other level, plain and simple. The man had cracked and it was no easy task to put him back together. It wasn't entirely his fault though. He'd been through so much as a man and as their leader. It'd all taken its toll, and if he was given the time to sort it out, and no more burdens dropped on him, he probably could. But Rick was stuck as a diplomat and playing politics between Woodbury and the prison. He was too busy getting together his peace, harmony, and all that other bullshit to focus on what _he_ needed.

Then there Mason. Mason who looked like a mouse and smelled like a rat. He was up to something, Daryl was sure of it. If he had to guess, he'd say the man was trying to run him out for whatever reason. Too bad for him Daryl wasn't going to give him the privilege of driving him away. If he left, Mason would concentrate his efforts on outing another person, maybe even Rick, in the same manner. And he wouldn't stand for someone like Maggie and Glenn being run off. Or if it was Rick, then what would become of Judith and Carl? It wasn't happening.

When Daryl finally mentally exhausted himself and did sleep, it wasn't restful. He kept turning over everything in his head. Mason, Rick, Carl, Carol. Rick, Carol, Carl, Mason. Carl, Mason, Carol, Rick. The four names were stuck on repeat and haunted his dreams. He'd dream that he wasn't in time to save Carl and Rick had killed him for it. Then it was he and Carol ran off together only to be discovered and chased into a herd by Mason. The third nightmare was the most disturbing for Daryl and had him waking in a cold sweat. He dreamed he'd been bitten saving Judith from a pair of walkers that resembled Merle and Sophia. When he returned the baby to Rick, he calmly asked for a gun to end his miserable life. Rick gave Daryl his gun and without any fanfare, Daryl pressed it to his temple and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Everyone from the prison and Woodbury began to laugh as Daryl squeezed the trigger again and again, each time being met with an empty chamber.

"You're not worth the bullet," mocked Rick, leading to an eruption of more laughter and jeers.

"_Please_..." Daryl had begged. "Please I don't want to become like one of 'em."

"Why not? You never were better than them," said Carol. "All your ever were was a disappointment and a failure."

"You were expendable," said Rick, "in all that you did. Even now it's not like you're going to be missed. We've already moved on."

Daryl curled helplessly under the blanket as the scene morphed slightly and Carol wrapped herself around Rick. Rick had sneered down at him and devoured Carol in a kiss that rattled his core. He wanted to tear his eyes away but he couldn't not watch. Then Mr. Mason appeared and disrupted his view of Carol and Rick. The old man leaned over Daryl and stabbed him in his side where he'd been bit. Daryl cried aloud and his back arched in pain; both in his dream and real life forms as Mason twisted the knife in deeper.

"Look at you," taunted Mason with a toothy grin. "You're crying like a little bitch. You can't even take dying like a real man. Why would anyone want you? Such a pathetic waste of space. It's a shame your daddy never finished you off when he had the chance."

Mason pressed the knife in to its hilt then released it. Rick disengaged himself from Carol and brought her forward to stand next to Mason.

"The only good thing you ever did for anyone in this prison is what you're doing right now," said Rick as Daryl continued to writhe on the floor in pain, "and that's dying."

The prison burst into another round of laughter and closed in on Daryl forming a ring around him. Rick was then next to him and he removed the dagger from Daryl's side. He feigned several thrusts towards Daryl's chest, each bluff causing Daryl to flinch and shy away to the complete amusement of the crowd. Rick paused to rile up the prison some more when Carl approached. The boy was the only one not wearing a sadistic smile. In fact, Daryl saw two tears race down his cheeks and dribble off his chin. Daryl tried to say for Carl to be brave and not to worry that'd it be over soon enough but Rick's hand was clamped down over his mouth preventing him from speaking.

"Dad?" questioned Carl. Both men looked over to the boy but Carl's eyes were locked in only on Daryl.

"_He's my son_," growled Rick. "_You can't have him_."

The knife in Rick's hand was plunged down into Daryl's heart as he sat up in bed. He gasped for breath and ran his shaky hands over his body to be sure it was a dream. His heart was racing wildly and his clothes stuck to him but from sweat and not blood. "_Of course it was a dream_," he thought in annoyance with himself. "_Otherwise I'd have a knife in my chest right now."_

Daryl used a few moments to get a grip on reality. None of it was real. None of it was ever going to happen. He'd never let Mason get near enough to stab him. Carol would never call him a failure nor run off with Rick. He was never going to be Carl's father and Rick would never do anything to hurt him. The only part of the dream that was even plausible was if something happened to Judith Daryl was sure he'd put his life on the line to save her. Nothing was going to take their Lil' Ass Kicker away. Not disease. Not the Governor. Not a walker. Not even Mr. Mason and all his plotting.

That man was quickly becoming the bane of Daryl's existence. They'd be so much better off without him. It was a shame that'd it look too suspicious if he was killed in an accident involving one of Daryl's arrows. He was too old to take on a run as well so they were pretty much stuck with him until he decided to drop dead.

Daryl sighed heavily then drew in a deep breath, the smell of menthol cigarettes filling his lungs. He was on his feet in an instant with his knife raised ready to strike. Those were Mason's cigarettes. He had smelled them before he left with Carl. The prick had just about blown the smoke in his face.

The prison was dark and extremely quiet; not even the usual snoring reaching Daryl's ears. He quickly arrived at the conclusion that the others were still out killing walkers and he was completely alone. He wanted to believe that Mason had been smoking somewhere else in the prison and the air had brought it up to him. Only problem was the air barely circulated through the cell block. There was no way for the smell to be hanging around _his_ cell like it was unless Mr. Mason himself had been smoking in it.

Daryl reached for a flashlight in his bag and turned it on. He was more than surprised when he _didn't_ find Mason lurking in the corner of his cell with a cigarette between his lips. Daryl checked the landing outside his room as well just to be on the safe side and that was deserted.

Mason was probably prowling around and stopped for a smoke on the second level, but as an added precaution, Daryl shut his cell door and returned to bed. The man was a suicidal lunatic if he had dared to enter Daryl's cell. He hadn't pegged Mason as the most go-getter type either. He was sly and cunning but would probably defer the heavy lifting to someone else. Daryl decided he hadn't been in his cell.

That feeling didn't last long as the beam from Daryl's flashlight fell on a cigarette butt in the center of the cell, still warm to the touch.

* * *

A/N: Hurray for another update! Phew. Yeah, that was fun.

Ok so in the show we don't really know whether or not Karen's son is alive or not. He might have been massacred by the Gov but they never really made that clear. So for the sake of this fic, and because I'm feeling momentarily nice, he's alive. Thanks for the reviews/favs/follows. Y'all rule!


	29. Up To Something

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

By the following morning, most of the herd had been killed off. Rick wasn't confidant that it had completely passed by or destroyed and he wanted everyone back out for another round on the fence after they'd gotten some rest. He approached Karen's son Noah and asked him to keep a look out and wake him if too many walkers started to pile up. The boy seemed eager to help but Rick made him promise he wouldn't overexert himself.

Rick checked in on Carl before heading to bed for himself. He discovered him sitting up with Hershel as the vet finished rewrapping his arm.

"How are you feeling?" asked Rick.

Carl's icy eyes stared up at his father from under the brim of the sheriff's hat. His mouth twitched like he was going to say something before thinking better of it.

"He's doing better than expected," said Hershel when Carl declined to answer for himself. "There's some inflammation around the wound but it's showing signs of healing and he said the pain is tolerable."

"That's good; really good," allowed Rick. He had worried more than once throughout the night that Hershel would come calling and say his son had taken a turn for the worse. "At least we know that scratches aren't fatal or they aren't if we treat them in time."

"Glad to know I'm a science experiment," said Carl in a low, fierce voice.

"You could be saving lives here Carl," Hershel attempted to explain. "Now we know what to do if someone else ever gets scratched...God forbid."

"Yeah whatever…Can I go outside now?" he whined, exasperated with his current predicament.

"No," said Hershel and Rick together.

Carl rolled his eyes and threw himself back on his pillow.

"You have to keep your arm clean. You have a lot of open skin and the smallest amount of dirt and sweat can introduce bacteria. We aren't equipped to handle it if it gets infected," said Hershel as gently as possible.

Carl rolled his eyes a second time before sighing and turning away from the men.

"A moment?" Hershel asked Rick as he rose from Carl's side. Rick nodded and allowed Hershel to lead him from the cell.

"Well?"

"He _is_ going to be alright, as far as I can tell," said Hershel. "He has no fever and the wound will heal. I'd want to give him about a month though before he's up and doing things like he used to."

"Whatever he needs," said Rick.

"We're lucky he was with Daryl too: He's skinned enough animals to know what he's doing. Any deeper and he could've damaged muscles and nerves. Any shallower and he might not have gotten all the scratches. But there's something you should know…"

"What?" asked Rick with minor concern.

Hershel indicated for he and Rick to move farther from Carl's cell before discussing the matter further.

"Carol said that he had a pretty close call…" Rick's eye brows rose in peaked interest at Hershel's words. "That a walker bit through his shirt and its teeth had come into contact with his skin. There was no broken skin but he's gotten sick. I've checked in on him several times and it's always the same: sweating, severe stomach cramps, general muscle pain and weakness, fatigue…He hasn't once left his cell since yesterday. Even Mr. Mason seems concerned about him. He said he heard Daryl thrashing around and moaning last night and it was enough to get him to stop by his cell."

Rick hunched over and rubbed his eyes as he digested the news. So Carl was better but Daryl was not? It was the complete opposite of what was expected. And if Daryl had acted so quickly to save Carl, why hadn't he done the same for himself? Rick guessed he didn't have time to in the heat of battle. But getting sick after coming that close to being bit was not a good sign.

"Do you—" Rick coughed to clear his throat. "Do you think it's from the walker? I need you to be honest."

Hershel sighed and stroked his white beard.

"It looks like he has food poisoning except he eats the same as the rest of us. But if I'm being honest, I'd say that it's in his head. It's like the placebo effect. He came extremely close to being bit and if the walker's teeth were on him, maybe he thinks he should be feeling something from the attack."

"In his head?" Rick repeated back.

"Perhaps," said Hershel thoughtfully. "We've cleaned the area several times and he had a brief fever yesterday but that seems to of subsided. If there was any way that he could turn, I think he'd still have the fever or he would've died already."

"In his head," said Rick a second time. "What do you suggest?"

"Well…I'd like to get him moving around as soon as possible. His body isn't used to doing nothing. Even after he was laid up from the knife attack, we saw how badly he was itching to get outside. I think the more he lays around and thinks he's sick, the sicker he will get. I was going to take him some water in a minute, maybe you can do that and talk to him," offered Hershel.

"I can try, though we haven't been seeing eye-to-eye lately," Rick admitted duly.

"Then tread carefully. There's a chance that it isn't in his head and he is sick so don't go and turn him out of his bed. I think he needs to be reassured that he's ok. If he doesn't look good to you, let me know," concluded the vet.

"Alright," sighed Rick.

The two men parted ways with Hershel returning to Carl's cell and Rick taking a water bottle and heading up the stairs to where Daryl slept. Rick approached Daryl's cell and stopped in the door. Daryl appeared to be asleep though Rick couldn't be sure as he was facing towards the wall. He had stripped down to a undershirt for easier access to his questionable shoulder. Rick could quickly tell that it was his right because it was redder than the other side. Daryl obviously kept rubbing and scratching at it causing it to become irritated.

Rick paused to knock on the cell bars before stepping inside. Daryl didn't respond to the noise and Rick tried again but louder. "Daryl?" he finally called out.

Daryl twitched as he was pulled from his sleep. He raised his head off the pillow to see who was behind him. His eyes scanned over Rick then drifted shut as Daryl lowered his head.

"Hershel said you had a close call…maybe too close," Rick announced. Daryl stirred again, his hand going to his shoulder. He seemed to pick at a certain spot and Rick leaned in to get a better look. Daryl sensed the other's shadow fall over him and he flipped to his back. He glared up at Rick, or at least tried to. Rick couldn't help but think that Daryl's blue eyes had lost some of their luster and appeared duller than normal. Maybe the sickness wasn't in his head. "Here," said Rick as he pushed forward the bottle of water. Daryl surveyed it for a moment then accepted it. He unscrewed the top and immediately downed a third of it. "Have you had anything to eat today?"

Daryl shook his head weakly and laid the bottle down next to him. "Didn't think I could keep anythin' down," he admitted in a hoarse whisper.

"I think you should try: you've got to keep your strength up," said Rick. He was met with a look of general scorn from Daryl though no verbal complaints were issued. "There are still leftovers from breakfast, why don't you go down in a few minutes and get some? You might feel better if you get up and get some fresh air. It's a pretty nice day outside—a decent breeze and a few clouds."

"Really don't feel like it," mumbled Daryl.

"Well, I'd really like it if you were up on your feet," Rick said firmly. "Hershel is certain you weren't scratched or bit. You just need to get moving again and that'll get you outta this rut."

"What, the others not helpin' on clearin' the fence? That it?" asked Daryl as he eyed Rick sharply.

"Fences are fine but it'd be nice to have another set of hands when we start piling the bodies to burn later today." Rick was aware of the fact that Daryl wouldn't be able to resist helping if knew the prison needed him. He always jumped at the chance to be involved dating back to the search for Sophia. So that was Rick's way of getting him up at gently as possible. "The rest of us are going to sleep until about noon then get back to work. If you want, you can grab something to eat then start getting together the smaller walkers; there were quite a few of those over on the west side of the yard."

"Yeah alright," said Daryl to Rick's complete surprise. He swung his legs off the bed and shakily got his feet under him. "But do me a favor."

"Anything," said Rick earnestly.

"Tell Mason to stay out of my cell if he knows what's good for him. I don't appreciate him smokin' over me when I'm asleep." Daryl went to reach for his crossbow then decided he wasn't up for using it and it'd just get in his way while hauling the corpses around.

"How did you—" Daryl jabbed a finger at the cigarette butt on the floor near Rick's boot. "_Ahhh_…yes, he said he heard you making some noises in your sleep and wanted to make sure you were ok."

"Doesn't matter. I don't want him pokin' around in here."

* * *

Daryl had to force his legs to carry him by Rick. If it hadn't been for that damn nightmare of his, he would've been content to stay in bed until he was over his sickness. But Rick had come to him for help. The man wasn't trying to be cruel, as Daryl was aware, and he suspected they really could use his help. He knew the others had been up most the night killing walkers and were probably tired as hell. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to resent him for his lack of involvement. If he remained in bed, he'd be sure that someone would throw him dirty looks for not doing his part. He'd been sick before and it hadn't killed him yet. He could survive another day of pushing through the pain.

Daryl worked down some powdered eggs and then a good chunk of venison. When the food hit his stomach, he immediately suppressed the urge to hurl. This wasn't like him. Not at all. Carol, Maggie, Glenn, Hershel, and now Rick had made it clear that he hadn't been bit and that it was unlikely he was being made sick from the attack. The only thing he could think of was there might be a scratch he wasn't aware of it. But even then he figured the pain would radiate from one area and not cover his entire body. So was it something he had eaten? Maybe come into contact with? He wasn't allergic to anything other than bullshit. It was the source of the mystery illness that perplexed him the most.

As he wrapped up what was either breakfast or an early lunch, Daryl finalized his decision to help. He'd give them as much as the afternoon as he could before his strength would leave him. Rick had said the weather was nice and hopefully that would prolong his energy. Daryl thought that a quick dip in the creek might also give him an extra boost and keep him from overheating. His skin felt absolutely disgusting from all the sweating he'd done with fighting off walkers and then being sick. If anything it'd be a relief just to have that off him.

Daryl squinted as he stepped outside. The people of Woodbury were out tending the field and Daryl half wondered if the sour old Mr. Mason creep was among them. All he seemed to do was look for ways to stir up trouble and tell others what they should be doing. Even thinking about Mason annoyed Daryl and he instantly focused on the number of walkers they were going to burn. He almost thought it'd be better at night because in the day the smoke would be able to be seen for miles around. Anyone with enough common sense would equate fire with other survivors and they'd have a new set of guests knocking on the gates. But if they burned the corpses at night, that could also attract more walkers or anyone passing through the woods might see the flames and come check on the prison. He certainly didn't want to attract anyone by burning during the day, but he had a worse feeling about the less reputable folk that crept around in the shadows of night.

Cautiously, Daryl left the safety of the fence and entered the trees. He was more aware of his surroundings than usual as he felt naked without his crossbow. Fortunately the only walkers he encountered on the way to the creek were the already dead ones he, Carol, and Carl had killed the day before. Reaching the water, Daryl and removed his boots and socks before stepping in. The water was cool and stung his feet but the feeling wasn't unwelcome. He considered stripping down but decided his clothes could use a rinse too.

Daryl's back straightened against the cold as he walked farther into the water and it circled around his waist. It didn't get much deeper than that and he crouched down until his knees rested against the muddy bottom. Now he was neck deep and he shivered though it was a relief from the sweating and fever he'd fought earlier. He rubbed his arms and legs down then summoned the courage to dunk his head. Daryl swished his head from side to side and ran his fingers through his hair. When he emerged from the water, he instantly felt better. It was like he no longer had that pesky residue plaguing his skin. That alone made him thankful that Rick had gotten him up and outside.

When Daryl finished cleaning himself, he exited the water and put his boots back on. He had to tighten his belt one notch to keep his pants from sagging too far due to their wet weight. The sun would have him dry soon enough so Daryl didn't mind the slight inconvenience of trudging around in clothes that stuck to him. He marched back towards the prison with renewed vigor in his step where he began to drag the walker bodies into a pile by the gate.

The job was not as taxing as Daryl first assumed and he made quick work of the immediate area around the gate. He noticed how the shadows cast by the fence grew shorter and then longer as the hours wore on. If he had to assign a time to it, he'd say it was about one when the others emerged to help him. Rick and Carol had both asked him how his energy level was holding up and Daryl assured them he was going strong. No one tried to send him back to the prison to rest and they all developed a rhythm of working in pairs to move the bodies. Daryl worked with Carol while Rick was helped by Karen. Maggie and Glenn were as inseparable as always which left Michonne and Tyreese as the fourth duo. By the end of the afternoon, they had assembled three large mounds of corpses waiting to be incinerated. No one cared to keep count of the dead as the only thing that matter was that everyone survived the herd.

They tossed some sticks on the piles and doused them in gasoline before setting them on fire. At times the flames shot as high as fifteen feet into the air and a thick brown smoke rose above the prison. When night started to fall, Rick, Daryl, and Glenn volunteered to stay outside and keep an eye on the piles to make sure they didn't get out of control. They each bedded down within the safety of the fence and watched the bodies be reduced to smoldering ashes as the moon rose.

* * *

Daryl was woken by the first rays of sun that slipped through the trees. He rubbed his eyes and stretched before peeling himself off the ground. He didn't really mean to sleep outside but it wasn't the worst decision. The soft grass overlaid on the hard ground was about as comfortable as his bunk. It was nice to get some fresh air too and thankfully the fires had been set downwind of the prison so they were spared the putrid smell of burning walker flesh. He was also able to sleep. He didn't have a single dream and wasn't worried he'd wake up with Mason hovering over him. The best part was that he appeared to be over his sickness. Daryl wasn't about to say he was a hundred percent as he still had some lingering tension in his stomach and muscles, but he was on his way.

Daryl was also on his way into the cell block when his good morning ended before it barely began. His hand had reached for the door the same time that it was opened from the inside. He was joined on the landing by an especially sour looking Mr. Mason.

If anything was going to make Daryl feel better about the situation it was the fact that Mason lost that tempestuous grin he found so annoying.

"Nice mornin'," greeted Daryl with mock politeness. "Out for a stroll?"

Mason slowly blinked at Daryl and drew several deep breaths. His mouth made some twitchy movements like he was chewing back the words he wanted to spit out. Finally he reached behind him, shut the door, and leaned against it.

"Yes actually I was. Care to join me?" Mason asked as that grin worked its way back onto his face. "I'd like the company. It's a fine morning for it too."

Daryl bristled: why the hell would Mason _invite _him along on a walk? Did the man seriously have a death wish?

"Really, Daryl," said Mason when Daryl gave no reply. "I feel like we've been running in circles with each other and we've never had a chance to work things out."

"Yeah? So why the hell ya think I wanna go spend more time with ya?" rumbled Daryl.

"It could be a good...bonding experience," said Mason thoughtfully, something wishful flashing behind his dark eyes.

"Ain't really my thing. I try to be _useful_," spat Daryl, his eyes narrowing and observing Mason like a hawk circling a field mouse.

Mason responded by cocking his head to the side then taking a step forward. Daryl held his ground: he was done being bullied by the bastard.

"That's interesting: you and I must have different definitions for the word 'useful.' See, mine doesn't include being laid up in bed for an entire day with a phantom illness. Of course with you, the illness is mostly neurological. Do you even know what that word means?" Mason tilted his head the other direction and chuckled as Daryl struggled to keep his emotions in check.

"And what do ya do round here? Eat our food and shit it out," fumed Daryl.

Mr. Mason took another step forward bringing himself within a foot of Daryl. "I do what I have to," he said simply with a curious twinkle in his eye.

"I noticed...like pokin' around my cell when I'm sleepin'. Catch ya doin'-"

Mason put his hand up to silence Daryl. Both men were half surprised the action had worked.

"No, no you've got it wrong. You were making an awful lot of noise and I was worried about you. I was going to wake you but you settled down after a minute. I figured it was one of _those_ dreams since kept mentioning the names Carol and Rick...she's pretty but it's odd to put her with another man when you're..."

Daryl's pulse skyrocketed making his blood beat around his body so fast it made his head throb. His breathing was reduced to short shallow breaths that clouded his judgment. Without being conscious of it, Daryl shoved Mason backwards and pinned him against the door. Mason appeared startled for only a second before regaining his composure.

Daryl didn't understand how the man was able to remain so calm until he felt the tip of a small knife pressed to his gut. He took his eyes off Mason for the briefest moment and saw the thin silver blade twist slighty in his shirt.

"Tsk tsk," drawled Mason. Daryl's eyes snapped back up and his hold in Mason's shirt increased. "Looks like your reflexes are getting slow. Are you sure you're feeling ok?"

"Feelin' better after washin' off and not sleeping' round yer worthless ass," Daryl admitted with a harsh bite in his voice.

Something changed then with Mason. His beady little eyes narrowed to slits and darted over Daryl, quickly taking in his cleaned appearance. Daryl thought the knife was then forced harder into his stomach, though not enough to draw blood.

"Yer up to somethin'," accused Daryl, his hands digging in deeper to Mason's shirt and pushing him roughly against the door. "Rick's gonna hear 'bout this."

Mr. Mason gave a small chuckle and closed his knife then returned it to his pocket. "Rick's a lawman; he's going to want proof."

"I'll find it," Daryl promised with a glare. "Then yer dead."

"Go to hell," Mason spat back. He reached up and loosened Daryl's grip on his shirt. Daryl's hands dropped to his side though his right flirted with the handle off his own knife.

"I'll look forward to it as long as ya ain't there."

Without warning, Mason reached forward and grabbed Daryl by the back off his neck. He brought their heads together with Mason's beard scratching against Daryl's ear.

"You might not have to look for too long," he whispered then released Daryl with a shove.

Daryl would've killed him right there had Rick and Glenn not been asleep in the yard. It'd be hard to explain why the old man had a bullet in his brain or been knifed through the heart without having attacked first. He considered pulling a Shane; breaking Mason's neck then using his smaller knife to stab his own arm. But it'd been done before and Rick would see it as Daryl attacking an old man without reason.

Mason pushed Daryl aside using the back of his hand. He threw one glance over his shoulder as he walked towards D block. Daryl had too many emotions running through him that he didn't care where Mason was headed as long as it was in the opposite direction of him.

Daryl stomped into C block and over to pick at something for breakfast as Mr. Mason bypassed entering the prison building and pressed himself against the dark wall as he walked. He slid from shadow to shadow before finding the small hole in the back fence and slipping out and into the woods.

* * *

A/N: Was that a collective "kill Mason" I just heard? How interesting... Sorry this update took a little longer to get out but hopefully it was worth it. Ill have another one asap and I'll answer reviews then. Thanks again for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!


	30. The Mole

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS:** Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

Mason slithered from the prison like a snake leaving its burrow to go on a hunt. He darted from tree to tree to conceal his disappearance and fade into the woods. Though he left out the seldom used back portion of the prison, he was well aware of the critical eyes of Daryl Dixon that were likely to follow him if he wasn't careful. Daryl finally suspected him of sabotage which was both a problem and what he wanted.

The man moved quicker through the forest than most would think he was capable of. For starters he might've exaggerated the number of years in worked in construction. What had he said when talking to Rick, fifty two years? Right, like a man would last fifty two years doing that hard labor. It was more like thirty five and a good ten year retirement to bring his age to sixty three. His face was weathered more than the average man of his age which helped his case. His tanned skin was set with deep wrinkles and he'd been grey since his sixtieth birthday. The prison had obviously placed him in the early eighties category which excused him from doing too much physical work. It was like he was still living out his retirement though he wasn't spending his days on the golf course or country club like he wanted.

Mason continued through the woods on a path that was not unfamiliar to him. He always enjoyed a good walk and the prison did not offer the scenic views he was looking for. That was how he was reunited with _his_ Governor.

He'd heard through the gossip vine that Philip had followed Rick and Daryl back from Woodbury the day after they all relocated to the prison. Apparently he had stopped at the gate to size the place up and decided he no longer had the man power to take it then drove off. Mason immediately knew the Governor was going to look for another way in and had probably not left the area. So he had slipped out and been wandering around the back woods for an hour when he came face-to-face with the Governor and his remaining henchmen. The four were instantly glad to be reunited and a plan had been hatched.

The Governor had other small camps of men at his service which was why he was able to massacre the majority of his Woodbury troops. However it would take time to round them all up, arm them properly, and establish a new base. That was where Mason could help.

When it came time to attack the prison again, it'd be easier if it wasn't guarded by so many experienced fighters. The Governor had learned Rick and his Merry Men liked guerilla tactics and couldn't be counted on to fight a fair fight. Rick could easily place snipers in the nooks and crannies of the prison and pick off the Governor's new army before they'd breach the gate. There was also the threat of that Michonne ninja who could pop up and behead the men the snipers didn't get. The only way to take the prison was to reduce the numbers of those capable of defending it.

"Break them up," the Governor had ordered. "Split them; have them at each other's throats. Make Rick drive his own men out. Thin their numbers any way you can."

So Mason started with that farfetched greenhouse idea. Rick would surely take his most experienced on a run into unknown and perhaps be killed that way. That same run had them falling right into one of the Governor's camps. Unfortunately the Governor had lost two of his soldiers but that one man, Bill, had done a number on Daryl. It was a shame they hadn't lost him. He was Rick's second in command and a huge asset to the prison. The death of Daryl would hang over Rick for months. Mason saw how hard they worked to save his life and knew right then Daryl had to go. Killing him was an option but it'd be hard to get that by Rick. The other option was to drive him out which resulted in Mason trying to get under the redneck's skin and rile him up. And it had been working surprisingly well. He'd had a complete meltdown and rumors swirled that Daryl may up and leave the prison. That Carol woman seemed pretty attached to him and maybe she'd go as well. That'd be two down. Then he could start on that young couple, Glenn and Maggie.

Mason trotted freely down his path and a pine that had been split by lightning came into view.

"Nice herd," Mason called out.

"Get any of 'em?" asked a Hispanic man as he stepped around the tree. Shumpert emerged from the other side and stood next to Martinez.

"Almost."

"_Damn_," sighed Martinez. He adjusted the sling around his right arm and rubbed at his shoulder. "Took us three days to round that many up. Easier after seeing the way Merle Dixon was able to get them together with a car."

"Burned a lot of gas though," said Shumpert regrettably.

"Bunch of damn cockroaches in that prison; can't kill any of 'em," said Martinez. He withdrew a cigarette from a crumpled pack and clenched it between his lips before bumming a light from Shumpert.

"Yes," agreed Mason. "How are things on your end? I heard the Dixon boy got a hold of you."

Martinez blew out a puff of smoke and groaned. "Yeah that asshole stabbed me right in the shoulder. This is the first Philip has let me come out with Shump. He's wanted to keep an eye on me," he laughed. "I've still got Daryl's knife. I'll be sure to return it one day."

"I'm sure he'll enjoy that," said Mason with a crooked smile.

"I'm sure he won't," said Martinez. "Speaking of Dixon, how's that coming?"

"I tried to get him to come out here with me this morning but he didn't buy it," frowned Mason.

"Imagine that," Maryinez mused with a sarcastic edge.

"And you almost got him, Carol, and Rick's boy with the herd. The kid got scratched but Daryl went all Rambo on him and cut out the affected skin so he's going to live. Apparently Daryl did have a walker's teeth brush against him and that's got him spooked."

"Why's he spooked?" wondered Shumpert.

"Cause he got sick afterwards," said Mason plainly.

"I didn't know that can happen," said Martinez and he and Shumpert exchanged a look of alarm.

"Well, he suspects it's me."

"You? Why would he think that?" asked Martinez with slight confusion.

"Because I've been putting industrial strength pesticide in his bed for the last few days," admitted Mason proudly.

"_You've been doing what?_" cried Martinez.

Mason shrugged like his confession was no big deal. "I was able to get some directly on the area he thought might've been bit…turned it nice and red."

"Ray, you're not supposed to kill him!" yelled Martinez.

"I thought that didn't matter!" Mason protested with his own shout. "Philip said to cut down their numbers any way I could. Besides, it won't kill him. He went and washed it off and I bet he'll change his bedding. It'd also take another week of him rolling around in it to be fatal. He's already beginning to recover."

Martinez dropped his cigarette and ground it into the pine needles under his boot.

"Alright, well Philip's main concern is Rick. He wants him broken and he wants the prison. Michonne or Daryl would just be the cherry on top."

"If Philip wants Rick he has to go through Daryl."

Martinez nodded. "Right. Damn that asshole is annoying."

"Can you get Daryl to leave the prison somehow?" asked Shumpert.

"Been trying that too," answered Mason. "I've gotten Daryl feeling pretty bad about where he's at and hopefully he'll take off. He and Rick's son have gotten pretty close and there's a woman that might leave with him plus a younger girl, Maggie, and her boyfriend seem to take his side in things."

"What is that, five?" counted Martinez. "If you can get them to leave, the prison should be easier to attack."

Mason's heart suddenly jumped as he was struck with an idea. Why hadn't he seen it before? Here he was chasing his tail trying to get that stubborn Dixon out when a much simpler option was available. "I think we're going about this all wrong…Philip wants Rick, so let's give him Rick. Draw him out of the prison and when he's alone, grab him."

Martinez and Shumpert both took a moment to mull over Mason's idea. Shumpert's mouth opened slightly and he appeared to murmur something to himself. Martinez bit down on his lip while he drummed his fingers against his thigh.

"No, we're back to square one," Martinez said with a shake of his head. "He's always going to have at the minimum Daryl around him or he'll stay inside the prison. He'd have to really lose it to go off on his own."

"So make him lose it. He's got two kids…I'll leave the backdoor unlocked," hinted Mason with a wink.

"Oh that's good," whispered Shumpert and the three stepped closer together. "That's really good."

"He's got Carl and the baby…I think it'd be easier for you to handle taking the two kids rather than attacking the entire prison. Then they'll spread out looking for the kids and you can grab whoever you want then. Rick, Michonne, Daryl…"

"How many men do you think it'd take?" Shumpert asked Martinez.

Martinez scratched the top of his head and looked back in the direction of the prison. "I'd say we could get in and out with about a dozen to be on the safe side. We have to anticipate the possibility of someone on guard duty we'll have to take out. Then I'm guessing Carl is old enough to carry a gun so he'll be armed. Someone to carry the baby…someone one else to watch the vehicles. Maybe another one or two with eyes on the rest of the prison to let us know their movements…"

"And how many men do you have right now?"

"Including Philip? Eleven. He'll want to keep about five around him maybe more now that we've taken in a few women and children from Bill's group. We've got another outpost or two to hit and we'll have extra then."

"How long do you think it'll take?" asked Mason.

"Can't say…we'll have to ask Philip."

"What should I do in the meantime?"

"_Don't_ get yourself thrown out of the prison," Martinez advised with a laugh. "We need you on the inside. Make nice with Daryl or at least don't kill him. If he suspects you any more then he'll run to his little buddy Rick…"

"Got it," scowled Mason. "Same time tomorrow?"

"Same time tomorrow," confirmed Martinez.

Mason waited for Shumpert and Martinez to fade into the trees, their natural colored clothing providing them excellent camouflage. He knew they had a truck or other vehicle parked about a mile away on the nearest road. While Martinez was injured, Mason had dealt with Shumpert and the man had given him a few details on how they and Philip were getting along after losing Woodbury. From what it sounded like, Philip had begun to re-establish themselves in a campground with several small cabins. Shumpert had said there were some bulldozers and digging equipment when they'd got there and the first order of business was to dig a trench around the buildings so the walkers would fall in. That was probably how they got part of their herd. He also said they'd been setting animal traps out so that they'd have a good supply of meat. It wasn't a bad operation and with several creeks in the area, they'd make do until Rick handed over the keys to the prison.

* * *

A/N: Im not even going to say anything about Mason other than his first name is apparently Ray. Thanks everyone! Love hearing from all yall!


	31. Too Easy

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore. There might be comic spoilers later on but you'll be warned about those specifically before they happen.

* * *

"Um Daryl, what are you doing?"

Glenn and Maggie stood on the landing outside Daryl's cell and looked at the redneck in wonder. He was throwing what few belongings he had into a bag and zipping it closed. When he finished, he snagged his crossbow and looked around the cell.

"Movin'," he replied and walked between the couple. Maggie went to grab his arm but he twisted away.

"_Daryl_—" Glenn started to say but the man turned and went directly into Carol's cell. He and Maggie both looked at each other without an idea of what to think of the situation. They carefully approached Carol's cell and saw Daryl unpacking his things. He threw his clothes on a chair in the corner and hung his quiver of extra arrows over the corner of the top bunk.

"What's going on here?" asked Carol coming up to her cell. Maggie and Glenn parted to allow her access to her cell. "What are you two—"

Carol stopped and froze outside the cell door. Daryl looked up to see her stunned face.

"Ya just got yerself a roommate," said Daryl.

"I, I…I don't understand," stammered the woman. "It's not that I don't mind, it's just...I know how much you like your space."

"Yeah well space can be dangerous when ya ain't sure of the people roamin' around it."

Glenn, Carol, and Maggie all looked at each other with great confusion.

"Is everything ok?" asked Maggie. "Did something happen?"

Daryl stopped unpacking, his hand hovering over the bag. What was he going to say? How could he admit that his encounter with Mason had left him rattled? The man had been bold enough to pull a knife on him. If he was crazy enough to do that then there was no telling what he was capable of doing to the more defenseless members of the prison. It wasn't safe to be alone if he was allowed to prowl freely.

"Just don't think it's safe for anyone to sleep by themselves with all of Woobury runnin' round here," he advised and hung his poncho on the back of the chair.

"Should we say something to Rick?" asked Glenn.

"Nope. Guy's got enough problems on his plate," Daryl said even though it wasn't the whole truth. Like Mason had said, Rick was a man of law. If he went to Rick and told him Mason had to go, Rick would need to know why and more so, need proof of his offense. Being an asshole and scumbag wasn't enough to get someone kicked out of the prison, especially when Daryl was the only one who appeared to have any problems with Mason. The situation could easily backfire and make things between him and Rick worse.

"Ok…I guess Maggie and I will leave you and Carol alone to get settled in or whatever else you'd like to do…"

Carol and Maggie both snickered; it was just too much fun to tease Daryl on the rare occasions that presented themselves. Daryl glared Glenn down. There was a line and he was about to cross it.

"Anyways…" said Maggie as she put away her smirk. "Glenn, we really should get outside and help with the field. We'll see you two in a little bit."

Glenn nodded and retreated from the cell leaving Carol and Daryl alone. Daryl finished organizing his things and finally sat on Carol's bottom bunk, forgetting it wasn't his.

"I hope I'll make a good roommate. Is there anything I can do to make you feel more welcome?" asked Carol. Daryl looked up at her in time to see her wiggle her eyebrows. "If you like the bottom, I don't mind being on top," she said suggestively causing Daryl to cringe.

"Stop," he huffed. "I'm sleepin' in here cause it ain't safe for anyone to be alone."

"I was talking about the beds," said Carol with a defensive smile. "But we _are_ alone now that Maggie and Glenn left."

Daryl grimaced. In his head, he pleaded for Carol to stop. But maybe if he let her get it all out now he might have a few weeks of peace.

"Carol, ya gotta quit that," said Daryl quietly. "I'm serious 'bout it not bein' safe."

"Daryl, what happened?" asked Carol with concern this time. She sat on the bed next to him and reached for his hand. He thought about pulling away but it was easier not to fight it.

Daryl sighed and started to take off his leather vest. Carol watched him with added interest as he shrugged the vest off his shoulder. "Think Mason did this," he said and turned so she could see his back.

Carol's mouth formed an O as she reached out and touched the angry skin on Daryl's shoulder. It was slightly swollen and two small sores had opened on it. "Mason? No it's got to be from—" Carol began but Daryl shook his head. He recovered his back and faced forward.

"I think he put somethin' in my clothes which made me sick. Then I woke up the other night and found his cigarette in my cell—yesterday my shoulder starts lookin' like that. I think he was tryin' to make it look like I'd been bit," Daryl explained. "I felt like shit 'till I went and washed off in the creek. Whatever was on me must've come off. Wouldn't a put the two together 'till he pulled a knife on me a few minutes ago."

"He what?" exclaimed Carol. "Now you _have_ to tell Rick."

"Yeah, and what do I tell him? Mason already got to him and said he was in my cell cause he heard me havin' a nightmare. He ain't gonna believe me," said Daryl sadly.

"He will once you show him your shoulder!"

"Naw…he'll just think it was the walker…he ain't got time for me. All 'bout him and Tyreese now. Ya can't say nothin' either," he muttered with a half glance at Carol. "But if Mason's brave enough to do shit like that to me, I don't trust him to leave ya alone. Ya got a way of attractin' trouble."

"So what do you want to do?" she asked.

"Keep a knife or gun on ya at all times. If ya see him doin' somethin' funny, ya come tell me and I'll take care of him, no matter what anyone else thinks."

Carol didn't have the words to answer him with so she settled for a small nod. She clutched his hand, raised it to her lips and pressed a gentle kiss to his palm. Daryl adverted his eyes and stood, slowing pulling away.

"Got shit to do," he mumbled and stalked out the cell.

* * *

Carl stared irritably back at his father who had appeared ten minutes previous. Neither had much to say to the other and Rick was content on occupying a chair across from Carl's bed. It was his turn to sit with Carl while Hershel got a breather and ate. The boy and his father had exchanged only a few sentences since he was placed on bed rest, and they were tense at best. Beth stopped by occasionally and then sometimes the sounds of childish laughter could be heard throughout the cell block. But the laughter was gone when Rick was in the cell. Hershel could squeeze a few smiles out of the boy if he worked at it and Tyreese was met with scorn.

Out of habit, Rick cleared his throat and ran his hands through his hair. He really had nothing to say to Carl. Or, nothing that Carl would be interested in hearing. The situation was what it was.

Rick finally dropped his head and looked at his hands. It didn't matter that Carl was barely tolerating his presence because he still had his son. And Judith too. Rick felt an instant pang at how much he'd been neglecting his baby. The women seemed more than overjoyed at caring for her and sometimes it was just easier for them to take control. Lori had done the most with Carl so he wasn't all that great with measuring out the proper amount of formula. He did hold her in the mornings and at night, when he could pry her away from Beth. He'd do more, he promised himself. That was his baby and their future: he'd do more.

After a few more minutes, Rick heard a heavy set of footsteps approach. He knew which man they belonged to and they slowed just before appearing on the outside of Carl's cell.

Daryl gazed in on Carl and Rick. His strong jaw was clenched as he looked at Rick and then relaxed some when he took in Carl. He gave the boy a brief nod and Carl returned the gesture. After another second, Daryl turned on his heel and disappeared from sight, his footsteps softening.

Rick leaned back, his head pressed against the wall. He closed his eyes and tried to relax the best he could. The next thing he was aware of was Hershel tapping him on the leg with the end of his crutch.

"Why don't you go lie down in your cell for a few minutes, you could use some sleep," said the vet with a kind air.

Rick stood and offered Hershel the chair. "I can't…We have too many things to do for me to be sleeping."

"No, there isn't anything that Tyreese can't see to. And until you find a better one, I'm this prison's doctor and I'm telling you to get some rest."

"_Go_," said Carl from the bed, his arms folded over his chest. "Hershel is here now so you don't have to be."

Hershel placed a knowing hand on Rick's shoulder and nodded for him to leave. Rick took another look at Carl and decided there was nothing to be gained by hanging around any longer. He departed the cell and walked the three steps over to his. He was more than surprised to find Karen standing in it leaning over his bed.

Karen immediately dropped the object she was holding on the floor and spun at hearing Rick enter. Rick stepped forward and knelt down to pick up what Karen dropped. He hadn't been sure of it at first but soon discovered it was a small bundle of flowers tied together with a string.

"I, I uh...I just wanted to thank you for bringing us here," said Karen in a whisper. "You didn't have to do that."

Karen watched as Rick ran his thumb over the flower petals. He turned them over one in his hand and then a second time.

"I hope you're not allergic or anything like that..."

"No, nothing like that," he assured her. "Never got flowers before is all."

Karen looked like she was going to say something else but the burning in her cheeks got the best of her. She turned away suddenly so perhaps Rick wouldn't see. He did notice however, and couldn't help but feeling a little flustered himself.

This was perhaps the first act of random kindness anyone had done from him since the dead rose. Everything was about survival. Find food, find shelter, find weapons. Defend food, defend shelter, defend weapons. Fight the dead and fight the living. Did they really have time now to, dare he even think it, relax? Enjoy the little things? Could life finally be slowing down? Could they start to live again rather than solely exist from day to day?

"Thank you," Rick managed to say. "We're glad, _I'm_ glad that you wanted to come here. Maybe if you have some time, you wouldn't mind going over some of those ideas you had for cleaning this place up?"

Karen smiled brightly from her lips to her eyes. It was nice to see someone with an actual smile. They'd seen so many tears and fighting to make a simple smile look like a drink of water in the desert. And Karen wasn't an unattractive woman either. Rick quite suddenly realized that and he stiffened. He needed to keep things professional between them. Emotions were dangerous things. It was too much to risk getting attached to a woman that he barely knew and could be ripped away at any time. Too dangerous indeed.

But Rick sat down on his bed and motioned for Karen to join him. He took out a piece of paper and a pen and two began to discuss their plans for the prison.

* * *

Time has a way of changing things, or so the prison survivors found out.

The prison enjoyed the start of a good spring with several cool days and enough rain that the crops in the field sprang out of the fertile soil. Wedding became a full time job that was handled by the more youthful backs.

Rick and Karen moved ahead with their plan on improving the prison's way of life. D Block was steadily enhanced and soon all of Woodbury was relocated there with the exception of Karen and her son Noah. They cut away the bars on the windows and fixed them so they could be opened and allowed the fresh breezes to circulate through the buildings. Other renovations were not as easy such as constructing an outdoor kitchen that could handle the demand of feeding everyone. They dug a large hole and sank a refrigerator in it then filled the area around it with water. The result was a half decent cooler that could keep meats, fruits, and vegetables from spoiling. To cook, they had either a grill or a large fire pit that was used daily. Tyreese led a team consisting of Maggie, Sasha, and Glenn to a lumber yard an hour away where they were able to salvage enough wood to build a covering over the kitchen and eating area. Tables and chairs were moved from the inside and more were made from old pallets to be able to seat everyone at the same time.

Additional cars were added to their fleet and Glenn pulled spare parts from defunct ones to keep on hand for repairs. One time he went out with Tyreese and came riding back on a motorcycle that had Maggie rolling her eyes. Daryl refused to acknowledge the crotch-rocket as a real motorcycle and called it a "whiny little bitch bike." Glenn didn't care and it used less gas so he kept it and would take it on runs when they only needed a few specific items.

Ammunition and weapons were not as easy to come by. Every single gun and sporting goods stores had been almost picked clean which meant there were groups of people out there sitting on stockpiles of weapons. Rick hoped they would do just that: sit there. They didn't need any trouble. They did have enough knives to arm everyone at the prison and it became customary to attach one to their belts when they first woke up.

After the incident with Bill, runs were always planned a day in advance and had to be approved by Rick, though Rick himself never went on them. Glenn and Tyreese shared responsibility there and would generally take Maggie, Sasha, Carol, or Beth with them. On a few rare occasions, they'd take along one of the Woodbury kids to get them experience with killing walkers in a relatively controlled setting.

The excursions yielded paint, carpets, nicer bedding, couches, books, linens, and new clothes. Everyone had the chance to actually decorate their cell and make it enjoyable. They hung drapes or blankets over the cell bars to give them more privacy. Then for the most part, they stopped calling them cells and started calling them rooms. The cellblock started to look like a very miss-matched college dormitory complete with common areas that had couches, book cases, and candles so they no longer had to go to bed with the sun.

It didn't take everyone long to settle into a pattern of what they were doing and who they were doing it with. Maggie and Glenn were hardly apart even on runs. They even knocked out the wall between their cell and the one over to give them more room. Karen, Beth, and Carol alternated caring for Judith with Rick stepping in for a few feedings. Hershel moseyed around to wherever he was needed. Tyreese and Sasha stuck close and Michonne fit in easily enough with them if needed. Rick and Karen were brought closer by their shared work and were often the last to go to bed after talking until the candles burned down. There was even renewed interest in Maggie and Glenn's wedding and plans shifted to focus on giving them a special day. Even Mr. Mason appeared to be playing nice. Spirits of the prison were the highest they'd ever been.

There were however a few exceptions.

Carl's arm was slow in healing and Hershel was insistent that he remain indoors. There wasn't much he could do and he spent most the time in his bed. He'd say the fewest possible words to Rick and some days they wouldn't speak at all. He was more receptive to the women and Karen or Sasha could charm a smile out of him when he'd gone too long without one. Carl would brighten when Beth stopped by for a chat and then he'd follow her around like a puppy as she did laundry or cleaned. He and Noah got along alright too. They'd play cards or explore the inner parts of the prison—anything to keep either of them from getting too hot or worked up. Other than that, few would draw Carl's attention but his eyes would follow Daryl as he passed by.

Neither Daryl or Carl had forgotten Rick's stern command that they see less of each other. Daryl wasn't going to cross that line with Rick, and really, Daryl didn't have much time for the kid. Carl was stuck inside and Daryl ran wild until the sun went down. Until their crops were ready, he was still their main source of food. They couldn't afford for him to sit around and chat or play cards like he often saw Carl doing. Food was as hard as ever to find and Daryl spent every minute he could hunting.

Rick requested that he also only go hunting if someone was with him. Daryl had never been good about asking anyone for anything and he hung around the first morning like a lost dog. He drifted from group to group observing everyone and waiting to see if they'd approach him. It was Michonne who finally reached out to him and became his partner.

Daryl and Michonne got along just fine despite their earlier differences. Both valued the sound of silence while out on the hunt. Michonne had also spent time out in the woods with Andrea so she had experience where most others did not. She never once complained about a deer Daryl would throw across her shoulders or about the dozens of fish they'd have to clean. She carried her weight and he was appreciative.

No one really questioned or teased him about his choice either. Maggie and Glenn were still giving him a hard time about sharing a cell with Carol. It often grated on his frayed nerves but he tolerated it-they didn't mean any harm. Carol at least understood it was a safety in numbers things. Rick was probably clueless and when he was around, Daryl noticed Rick shifted his attention to Karen or reports on work around the prison. He never asked how the fish or venison appeared on his plate or if there was anything he could do to help Daryl. He along with everyone else were doing just fine.

* * *

A/N: Well ya know what that means. If everything is fine, it won't be for long! Sorry if that was a bit fluffy, not really my style. I guarantee action in the next chapter plus a character death in the next. Just saying. It's about to get fun.

Candra-hush.

CocoChuba-sorry, Daryl wasn't in the woods.

Deanandjo4ever1-they might not take the kids. You never know.

Peachuzoid-hehehehe I finally got you stumped. Mission accomplished.

Itsi3- naw, Im going to let Mason live.

Jokerang-Thank you!

PandamoniumPress- haha good call!

Storm'eaway- well, the people from Woodbury originally trusted give Governor so it may be like that again. Plus there is also the possibility that Bill had a wife or kid that will be mad that Bill was killed by Rick. Could be out for revenge.

Surplus Imagination- oh this is going to be fun. So very much fun.

Guest TWO HAHA- I'm sorry that I ruined your Mason for you :(


	32. A Friendship Reforged

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore.

* * *

**A/N:** Ok, I want to apologize for several things straight off. There's been a rather difficult death in my family and the fallout from it has not been the easiest to deal with, hence the delayed update. Also I know I promised more action and character death in this chapter but it was hard to do given recent events. I'm sorry and I won't go as far as to promise death in the next chapter, but I'd like to think I'll be able to do it. Thank you to all who have stuck with the story, I am very grateful to all of you. Thank you.

* * *

A red sun rose over the prison and the surrounding woods.

The people of the prison stopped in their final day of preparations for Maggie and Glenn's wedding to enjoy the beautiful scene and give thanks for living to see another morning. After Maggie agreed to a larger wedding, they really were going all out on the thing. They'd built a gazebo for the couple to be married under and started to arrange the chairs and tables for the ceremony and then a reception. Their first harvest was also ready and Daryl and Michonne had been stockpiling fresh meat so they could have a true feast. The wedding was also going to mark the return of Carl to prison's workforce.

They were not the only ones watching the sun rise above the Georgia pines.

Heavy footsteps approached a man standing in the pale light, his back a silhouette as he looked to the East.

"I hope Rick is enjoying this morning. It'll be the last one he ever has with his kids."

Martinez stopped next to the Governor and stretched with his bat over his shoulders.

"Kinda rude to bust up that wedding they've got planned for tomorrow. Mason says they've really been looking forward to it," said Martinez.

The Governor and Martinez exchanged a smile with each other.

"Maybe they should have invited us," said the Governor. "_That_ was rude."

"There isn't going to be much of Rick after this," said Martinez. "Mason thinks he can snap at any moment."

The Governor sipped on some water and adjusted his eye patch before sighing.

"I want that prison and I want Michonne. Rick had the opportunity to hand her over before and he didn't…he sent Merle to do his dirty work for him. Now he has to pay. He'll do anything to get his kids back—even the baby that might not be his," said the Governor. "Rick will come crawling out of his precious prison before midnight."

Martinez took that as his cue and stepped off the cabin's porch to get the rest of their men up and ready to go.

* * *

As the morning warmed up, Maggie succeeded in pulling off a small miracle. She had to use the "it's my wedding and I'm the bride," but she got Daryl to agree to go on a run with Rick.

Glenn had asked both men to be groomsmen and with the responsibility came the necessity of finding decent clothes to wear. They were going all out with the affair which included everyone wearing clothes without holes and various stains. Maggie said if she had to wear a wedding dress, then the bridal party had to dress the part as well.

Rick waited patiently in the Hyundai for Daryl as Maggie finished telling him what was going to be considered acceptable. After his lecture, Daryl climbed in the passenger seat and set his gaze out the front window. Other than a few meals at the same table and bumping shoulders in the narrow halls, it was the closest they'd come in over a month. They departed the prison with the hopes of everyone behind them that this trip might finally patch things between them. If not, then the wedding and the time together during it would. Rick and Daryl just needed to get out the prison, kill a few walkers, and share some lighter moments.

Those light moments were hard to find as Rick drove to the shopping center Glenn promised would meet their needs. Rick would open his mouth to say something, get halfway into the first syllable and stop. Daryl was equally chatty.

He'd already asked about hunting and how sharing a cell with Carol was; both questions received a brisk "fine." He remarked that Mason had settled down and was giving everyone less trouble. Nod. Rick mentioned how excited the women were for the wedding and got a "good for 'em." His brain tumbled through different topics and stumbled upon an old joke that Shane once had a particular affinity for. It was worth a shot.

"Do you know why it's so hard to solve a redneck murder?" asked Rick, with a hint of seriousness. Daryl continued to stare out the window but Rick could tell he had the gears turning upstairs. He was probably pushing his luck with the joke, especially if Daryl didn't interpret it as such. "Because all the DNA matches and there are no dental records," said Rick, hitting the punch line.

With a sigh, Daryl closed his eyes and pressed his lips into a tight, thin line.

"Screw you," escaped his drawn mouth.

"Yeah?" asked Rick, checking out Daryl from a quick glance to the side.

"Yeah…damn that's kinda good." Daryl ducked his head and fought the smile that was threatening to break across his face. "Screw you," he chuckled.

Rick broke into a small laugh for himself.

"I'm surprised you got it. Your eyes look kinda bloodshot—have you been drinking?" he asked Daryl.

Daryl looked over at Rick. Was he stupid? No he hadn't…

"Yeah well yer eyes look glazed—have you been eatin' doughnuts?"

There was a slight pause then Rick and Daryl both let out an overdue laugh.

"I had a little frat boy ask me that once at the end of one of my shifts," said Rick at the memory.

"Yeah? How'd that turn out for him?" wondered Daryl.

"His 'brothers' got to bail him out of jail in the morning," said Rick.

"Ya arrested a kid for mouthin' off to ya?"

Rick nodded.

"That and he couldn't pass a sobriety test even if I took it for him. Puked in my patrol car ten minutes later."

"Sounds like somethin' Merle might've tried…make a cop laugh to get outta a ticket," mused Daryl quietly, going back to staring out the window.

Rick sobered quickly, a pang of guilt hitting him in the stomach.

"Daryl I'm-"

"Ain't yer fault—"

"Yes it was," interjected Rick. "I put the idea to hand Michonne over into his head. I never should have gone to him about that. If we did give her up, I really thought the Governor was going to be fair about it. I won't even begin to say I should've shot him when I had the chance."

"Ya couldn't a done that…his men showed right up and they woulda seen us," protested Daryl. "That was all Merle. He picked a hell of a time to do the first right thing in his life."

"He helped save you from Woodbury," said Rick.

"Naw, that was ya comin' back for me. We wouldn't a made it outta there if ya didn't."

"Either way, I'm sorry about what happened. Merle was your brother and I think we all overlooked that after what he did to Glenn and Maggie. That wasn't fair to you to say we valued them over Merle."

Rick looked to Daryl again who had his head turned all the way to the side and was watching the scenery streak by. They should have had this talk over a month ago.

"Better late than never," sighed Rick.

"Huh?" asked Daryl.

"Just thinking…looks like that's the store Glenn was talking about," said Rick. He slowed the car then pulled into the parking lot of a shopping center. He stopped just outside of a clothing store that had both the front windows shattered and a door that was more off its hinges than on them. Both men got out of the car; Rick readying his machete and Daryl loading his crossbow. They stepped over enough bodies of the dead that they were unlikely to encounter many that would be much of a threat. Glenn and Tyreese had been through the place enough to kill most of the walkers and without the living around to attract more, the place was clear.

Daryl shoved the door open for Rick and they advanced into the store. Rick swept around the building and found three downed walkers that all appeared to have been salesmen at one time.

"Clear," said Daryl coming out of a back room. He propped his crossbow against a dusty displace of dress shoes and frowned at it. "Ain't no way I'm wearin' that shit."

Rick laughed and came over to where Daryl was standing. He picked up a pair of brown leather shoes and wiped his hand over them, discovering they were indeed black. He turned the shoe over and found a faded price tag that would have put a dent in his salary if he had bought them in another time. Daryl looked at the tag and shook his head.

"No?" asked Rick.

"Hell no," shot Daryl. "Ain't never spent that much on clothes in my life. Not gonna start now either."

Rick removed his boots and tried the shoes on. Daryl immediately lost interest and was attracted to a display of cowboy boots. The fancy leather stuff wasn't much his style either but if Merle was alive, he wouldn't get his ass beat for wearing them. Daryl sat down on a bench and pulled off his worn boots and stretched his toes. He was then hit in the back of the head with a pack of socks as thrown by Rick. Daryl tore into them and replaced the holey ones he'd been running around in for too long. He tugged the boots on, decided he could stand them for one day, and set them aside to take back. Rick too had found a pair of shoes he liked and placed them next to Daryl's boots.

"Well, Maggie wants us to wear either khakis or dress slacks," said Rick as they started to browse the clothing racks. Daryl gave him a questioning look and then down at his own pants. "It means better than what you've got on."

"I know what that means," growled Daryl. He, however, took a step back to allow Rick to sort through the clothes. He seemed to know more about what they were looking for and Daryl couldn't care less. Daryl had been perfectly content to wear what he'd always worn but the women threw a fit and told he and Rick they had to sharpen up.

After ten minutes, Rick had settled on dark grey slacks and white button downs so they could be spared a little from the heat of the late afternoon wedding. He held up a tie but was the idea was promptly shot down by Daryl. "No way," he said and took the clothes from Rick to try on. He went to the far corner of the store and both men turned their backs to give the other some privacy.

"Fit alright?" asked Rick, moving to take a look at his reflection in a mirror.

"Fine," said Daryl, joining him.

Daryl glanced at the mirror, hardly long enough to observe his image, and began to unbutton the shirt. He'd never cared once about the way he looked and would always pick function over fashion. Rick was prissier about it though and smoothed out the creases on the shirt.

"Ya know Daryl," he said over his shoulder, "you clean up pretty good. Now we just gotta get you a shave and a haircut and I bet all the ladies will want to dance with you."

"Shut it ya jackass," huffed Daryl as he changed clothes. "Can't catch a break."

"You brought it upon yourself when you moved in with Carol," Rick decided to point out. "You had everyone talking about it for a few days. Even Mr. Mason noticed."

Daryl gathered together the clothes he was going to take with him and shoved them in a bag before grabbing his crossbow and making his way to the door.

"Course he noticed…makes me and Carol harder to kill."

Rick whipped his head around so fast he felt the strain in the muscles all the way down his back.

"What the hell did you just say?" he asked breathlessly.

Daryl flinched at Rick's sudden interest in him and dug the toe of his boot into baseboard of the wall. "Nothin'…just didn't feel that either of us were safe sleepin' by ourselves," he said quietly.

"And why would you think that?" asked Rick, advancing. When Daryl had a feeling, he was usually right about them. "Did he do something?"

Daryl's eyes fell away from Rick's and he nodded. "I can't prove it but I think he put somethin' on my clothes to make me sick that time. Pulled a knife on me when I mentioned it to him…"

Rick's nostrils flared and his chest rose and fell sharply under his half buttoned shirt. "You didn't think I'd want to know something like that?"

"Didn't think ya'd _want_ to know 'bout it. Ya didn't want nothin' to do with me," Daryl admitted and prepared to defend himself but there was no need to.

Rick exhaled and he bent over with his hands on his knees. He tried to take several deep breaths to focus his jumbled mind but he was hit with the full force of how bad things had gotten between he and Daryl. Rick couldn't even recall what went through his head when Carl had been scratched because he was too mad and fueled by the thought of losing him to Daryl. He had allowed their friendship to collapse over stupid misunderstandings and never attempted to repair it.

"Daryl…I, I don't…"

Rick stopped when he felt a hand being placed upon his back.

"Ya always have done alright by me. Ain't nothin' ya did I couldn't put up with. Hell, I've done some shitty things and ya kept me around," said Daryl.

"No, Daryl," said Rick shaking his head. "I pulled my gun on you for saving Carl's life. That should never have happened. I've screwed up too much. I won't deny it and you can't either. I wonder more often than not if I'm the wrong leader for the prison."

"Ya ain't," said Daryl quickly.

"No, it needs to be someone like you or Glenn, maybe Tyreese or Michonne. Anyone would be better than me," said Rick gravely.

"Ya wanna vote on it when we get back?" asked Daryl. "Cause my vote is goin' to ya. Now shut up 'bout all this ya ain't a good leader shit."

"But—"

"But what?" snapped Daryl. He jabbed Rick to get him to stand up and face him like a man should. "Carl called me Dad and that didn't sit right with ya—I get it. Even though he ain't mine, I still care 'bout him like he is—that ain't gonna change either. Ya got a new baby the day ya lost yer wife. It was hard enough with our group then ya added all of Woodbury and me bein' a little bitch over Merle didn't help none. And somewhere is the Governor and he wants us all dead. Ya really are crazy if ya think someone can do a better job."

Rick was eternally grateful for the walker that crept around the corner of the store and pressed itself against the window. Daryl quickly took his knife and pushed out the door and ended it for good. In the few seconds that he was gone, Rick wiped his sleeve over his eyes and removed all traces of the moisture that had started to leak out.

"Thank you," he said to Daryl as he returned. "I've been an ass and I owe you more than one apology."

"We're square as long as ya don't point that gun at my head again. Gettin' real tired of that shit."

Rick smiled and forced a small nod. Daryl's face remained the same as it always was but his eyes showed a return of trust to Rick.

The pair quickly scooped up the clothes they were going to take and left the store. They paid no heed to the walkers that were inching towards the car as they got in and drove off. Small talk filled the Hyundai once again as Rick and Daryl discussed the wedding and what was to come after.

"I was thinking," said Rick as he approached the final turn to the prison, "that maybe later this week you could take me and Carl out to fish. I know, it sounds ridiculous…"

Daryl however didn't seem to think it was that farfetched of an idea.

"Say when. Got a map that says there's a lake 'bout ten miles to the south. Wouldn't be a bad idea for Carl to learn how to fish. He'll be takin' care of this group one day. We ain't gonna last forever."

"You won't mind?" asked Rick. "I know he'll be more open to it if you're there too."

"'S fine," said Daryl. "Wouldn't mind changin' up things myself."

"Thank you," said Rick, stopping the car outside the gate and waiting for Sasha to open it for them. They went through and up to the main prison and passed everyone sitting out eating lunch. Both Daryl and Rick's stomachs let out a growl of hunger at the same time. Daryl jerked his head to the side for Rick to follow him to eat. They approached the area and spotted Carl sitting across from Maggie and Glenn. The men each took a plate of food from a Woodbury lady and sat on either side of the boy. Conflicting expressions of joy and annoyance passed across Carl's face as he first looked to Daryl and then at Rick. Maggie and Glenn smirked privately into their drinks.

"How'd it go?" asked Glenn, not just meaning if they found the clothes they were looking for.

"Better than expected," answered Rick with a swift glance towards Daryl. "It was good—no problems, found everything we need."

"I can't wait to see what you two look like all cleaned up," said Maggie. "That is if we can get those eighteen layers of dirt off you, Daryl."

"It's probably only seven since it rained a few days ago," amended Glenn. Daryl shook his head quietly and Rick reached around Carl to give him a good natured clap on the back.

"There was something Daryl and I wanted to talk to you about though Carl," started Rick. Carl kept his head down, his long hair hiding his face. "We were thinking you'd like the chance to get away from the prison now that your arm is better and that we can take you fishing. You'd like that, right?"

The four adults around the table all waited anxiously for Carl's response.

"You don't know what I like," said Carl lowly. "Maybe I don't want to go fishing."

Daryl gave Carl a small nudge under the table with his elbow telling him not to be too harsh with his dad.

"It sounds like it would be fun," offered Maggie with a smile.

"Not really," said Carl. He set his utensils across his plate even though he'd only eaten half his meal and made ready to leave the table.

"Would you rather take a day and go hunting then? We can do whatever you want to," modified Rick in hopes something would spur Carl's interest.

"Isn't there enough we should be doing around here? You keep forgetting the Governor is out there and you just want to run off for a day at the lake?" asked Carl, his tone taking a turn for the worse.

"It's not like we won't be careful and we won't be doing anything to draw too much attention to ourselves," said Rick.

Carl swung his legs over the bench and backed away from the table.

"Yeah? Maggie, Glenn, what we're you two doing when Merle kidnapped you and took you to the Governor?"

That low blow resonated around the table and the shockwave showed on all the adults' faces. The young couple had only been getting baby formula when Merle showed up and thus introduced the prison to the wickedness of the Governor. Rick didn't want to admit it, but Carl did have a valid point. Rick had also encouraged everyone to cut back on unnecessary risks which was why every outing was carefully planned and for things they needed. It looked like his fishing trip was canceled before it was even scheduled.

"Ok, so is there something around here you'd like?" asked Rick.

"Yeah, I'd like it if you'd leave me alone," Carl snapped back. "You've been treating me like a baby—everyone has—and I'm not. I can't go anywhere without someone following me thinking I'm going to get hurt. My arm has been better for the last week and you still wouldn't let me do anything. I just want some space," he breathed.

"I just thought that—" began Rick before Carl cut him short.

"Maybe you shouldn't think. You haven't made a good decision since we left the quarry. And even when you do decide something, you just go back on it. There was that mess with Randall and all the walkers Hershel kept in the barn. Here at the prison you decide to send Tyreese's group away and then end up bringing them back in. You wanted to kill the Governor and you didn't even though he was right in front of you. Then you were going to hand Michonne over and you decided against it—again." Carl's faced turned red under the sheriff's hat as he ran through the tally of Rick's offenses. "Now you say it's safe to go out when all along you've said it's too dangerous and we can't risk it unless we have to? Which way is it?"

Rick forgot about his food and placed his fork and knife alongside his plate. He looked up to Maggie and Glenn eager for one of them to jump in, but deep down, he saw them thinking the same thing Carl was.

"See, I told you I'm right," said Carl when no one questioned him. "You shouldn't be in charge anymore: all you do is make decisions based on what you feel like right then. You never think anything through. We're lucky there's this many of us still alive."

Rick stood from the table and towered over Carl. Glenn, Maggie, and Daryl also rose with Maggie doing a quick check to see how much unwanted attention the tiff was drawing in.

"You—you don't understand Carl," tried Rick in a calm, sure voice.

"You're right; I don't understand," said Carl taking several steps out from under his father's shadow. "I don't understand how you're still in charge here. You're going to get someone else killed."

"Carl you can't—"

"Shut up Maggie!" roared Carl quiet unexpectedly. Maggie flinched and shut her mouth but Glenn crossed to the other side of the table clearly ready to punish Carl for his rudeness. Daryl saw Glenn coming and deliberately put himself in the younger man's way: Carl needed to get it out. He couldn't keep holding in his anger and as long as he wasn't getting physical about things, it was best to let him go. "Anyone who doesn't see how wrong he's been is stupid. We _need_ someone else to lead us."

"These are not your things to decide," said Rick, coming to his own defense. "Step down, now."

"You first!" yelled Carl. The prison yard went eerily silent, Carl's latest shout grabbing the attention of the other adults in the area.

The intensity at which Carl and Rick glared at each other with could dissolve a weaker person in an instant. Both Rick and Carl's chests heaved in time and Carl seeing this held his breath for a moment to differentiate him from his father. Maggie and Glenn continued to hold back: Glenn by Daryl's arm that was extended to block him, and Maggie by Glenn's inaction.

Rick's eyes scanned his son's smaller being trying to decide what to do with him. This attitude was not going to do at all.

"Go to your cell," Rick ordered in as stern voice he ever used and pointed towards the cell block. "You will not talk to me or Maggie like that. Go to your cell now."

"Hell no; you're not the boss of me!"

"I'm your father and you will do as I say," proclaimed Rick. He caught Daryl's eye and something in it seemed to say he was toeing the line with Carl and needed to be careful.

Carl clenched his fists, his nails breaking into the skin in his palms and squared his stance. "You're only my father by blood. I don't have to listen to you, not when your decisions have killed so many people."

"Carl," Rick dropped his voice to keep the majority of their argument from reaching anyone else's ears, "you've been asking to be treated like an adult so I'm giving you one last chance to go to your cell or I'll make you."

Nothing happened in the group for what felt like the longest time and then Daryl saw it: the slight quiver in Carl's shoulder that came right before he'd reach for his gun.

* * *

A/N: all I ask for on this one is not too much Carl hate. Thanks guys.


	33. Problem Child

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore.

* * *

The initial disagreement between Carl and Rick quickly morphed into something more and Daryl saw the making of an all out duel if Carl was allowed to draw his gun.

Carl dragged his hand up the side of his leg, fingers brushing against the barrel of his pistol as Daryl shoved Rick to the side. Everyone's eyes went wide as Daryl put himself between Rick and Carl at the same time Carl pulled his gun up and aimed it at the center of Daryl's chest.

Somewhere, a woman shrieked and the sudden noise sent a chill down Daryl's spine thinking he'd already been shot. He didn't question why he did it; he only knew things could not end with the death of any of the Grimes.

Carl's aim would certainly be fatal and his grip on the gun was sure; his face wiped clear of all remorse for the consequences if he took the shot. Michonne, Tyreese, and Carol rushed in but stopped yards away to keep from upsetting the delicate balance of the situation before them. Behind Daryl, Rick reached for Daryl's shoulder but he came up short; his arm suspended in midair like it was tied to the strings of a marionette. No one dared to breathe.

Daryl watched as Carl's hand began to quiver; the trembles rattling up his entire arm until the hesitation started to show in his face. If he wasn't going to shoot him right then, he wasn't going to.

"Knock it off," said Daryl, and his hand closed on Carl's gun to point it harmlessly towards the ground.

"He's killed enough people with his decisions," Carl let out in a low grumble. Daryl felt the gun he was holding at bay start to rise up again and increased the force necessary to keep it down. "Someone needs to stand up to him or do something about it!"

"Alright, ya stood up to him...Now c'mon on; we're gonna go hunt." Carl squeaked as Daryl jerked the gun out of his hand and tucked it into the back of his pants. "I'll give it back when we're in the woods. Go—"

Carl received a generous push in the direction of the gate but stopped to turn and stare murderously at either Rick or Daryl: he wasn't sure which he was more infuriated with at the moment. After realizing he wasn't able to strike them down with his eyes alone, he stomped over to the guard tower and gate.

Together, the prison took a shaky breath and whether he wanted it or not, Daryl was surrounded and patted by concerned and grateful hands. Rick was by his side then.

"Save it," said Daryl before the man could get a word out. "He's gotta cool off. I'll take him huntin' to get his mind off things here. We'll be back before dark."

"Is that such a good idea?" asked Carol. "He just pulled a gun on Rick and you feel comfortable going out there alone?"

"Carl's going crazy sitting in the prison—I'd let him," said Tyreese. "What else can we do?"

"Nothing," answered Rick. "I've let this go on for too long. This is my fault."

"Told ya to save it," Daryl said again. "Look, I can take him to cool off or we do this all over in another five minutes. Ya wanna lock yer own kid up in a cell? Cause that's where it's headed."

"I don't," said Rick truthfully. Taking Daryl by the arm, Rick ignored the protests the others were going to bring about and lead him to the base of the guard tower where they could talk privately.

Their conversation was not going to be as exclusive as they thought and were unaware that Carl was leaning against the adjacent wall just out of sight. He shifted farther out of view when Rick started to speak.

"I can't thank you enough for what you just did. I'd like to hope Carl wouldn't have pulled the trigger but honestly, I think there was a chance he was going to," said Rick in a hoarse whisper.

In all that they'd been through, Daryl had not seen Rick so visibly shaken as he was in that moment. He was indeed scared for both his life and his son's.

"It didn't happen," said Daryl.

Rick shook his head.

"No, you don't pull a gun on someone unless you're sure you can take the shot. I taught him that before and we've all emphasized it with the kids when teaching them to shoot. The only thing that stopped him was you getting in the way."

"What do ya want me to do?" asked Daryl.

Rick breathed out and looked back into the prison yard and at all the worried faces watching him and Daryl. What else could he do? He had all these people depending on him to keep them safe and a renegade child was a danger to everyone. Carl was lost and without immediate action, someone was going to die because of him.

"I don't know what to do about him. I don't know if there's anything _I_ can do about him. He's been gradually turning into this kid I don't even recognize anymore. I don't see Carl when I look at him—that wasn't my son a few minutes ago. This world has been hard on him, it's been hard on all of us, but he's out of control. He murdered a kid from Woodbury, he tried to kill Mary and Mr. Mason, and now that—"

Daryl sensed what Rick was getting at and moved in closer.

"Right now he's a danger to this whole group…do you disagree with that?" asked Rick. Daryl was silent and Rick continued. "We can't have anyone like that anymore."

On the other side of the wall, Carl's brow arched and he turned his head to the side to listen in better. He almost couldn't believe it: his own father had called him dangerous. In his distorted mind, Carl figured he heard Rick telling Daryl that he was a liability the prison could no longer afford.

"You said you care about him like he's yours and I need you to do something that I can't…"

"I'll take care of him," said Daryl with a quick nod.

Carl's pulse jumped and he moved away from the wall so he wouldn't be discovered as the conversation wrapped up. He was certain Rick just asked Daryl to take him into the woods to kill him. He was called a danger, uncontrollable, and a murderer. Yes, Daryl was going to lead him away from the prison and put a bullet in the back of his head.

Daryl joined up with Carl after parting with Rick. He thought it was odd that Carl was watching him so intently but he brushed it off being he was probably anxious to get his weapon back if they were going hunting.

"Told ya I'll give yer gun back in the woods, now c'mon," said Daryl. Carl started after Daryl with his eyes locked in on the pistol tucked into the waistband of Daryl's pants. They soon entered the shadows of the trees and Carl waited eagerly as Daryl swung his crossbow off his back and then reached for the gun. Without looking behind him, he extended the gun and felt Carl take it from his hand.

* * *

Rick sighed when he saw Daryl return Carl's gun and the two vanished into the woods. If there was anyone that could set Carl straight at that point, it was Daryl. He had been right in saying Carl needed some time to cool off. Rick wanted a few minutes to himself as well.

"He's taking Carl to settle down…they'll be back in a few hours," Rick announced walking back to the gathered crowd.

"Do you want me to go with them?" asked an unsure Glenn.

"No, Daryl's probably the only person Carl will tolerate right now. They'll be ok out there. I trust them both to keep their heads about things," said Rick with a forced sense of confidence.

"Are you sure you shouldn't have gone too?" Carol asked.

"There's nothing I can do…that's why I need Daryl. He'll get Carl to come around."

"Or?" raised Michonne.

Rick was silent. He hadn't quite formulized a backup plan. If Daryl was unable to bring Carl back to the light, he didn't know what he was going to do with his son.

"Oh great," muttered Glenn, snapping Rick out of his thoughts. "Here comes Mason."

A "why him" look was passed amongst the original group from the prison as the Woodbury representative trotted down the field. Rick groaned for he did not need anyone else to potentially tell him how he was raising his son incorrectly. He could already hear Mason's tired speech on how they had to be doing what was best for the entire prison, no exceptions. Though the man had backed off Daryl substantially, he still complained enough about him to make those that cared for Daryl avoid him. If it was going to be like that with Carl, Mason was going to lose several teeth. No exceptions.

"There you are Rick!" waved Mason. "What's going on? How did your run go?"

Rick saw Glenn roll his eyes behind Mason and some from Woodbury decided the situation no longer warranted their presence and went to finish their meals.

"It was fine," said Rick. "We found everything we needed and no problems."

"Fantastic," said Mason, looking around nervously. Rick noticed something wasn't quite right with Mason. If anything he appeared rather flustered and had moved with speed he didn't think possible. "Actually, I came down here to see if you knew where Carl is? That kid is sure difficult to find sometimes."

"He's off hunting with Daryl…why?" asked Rick.

Mason reached up to tug on his white beard as his face went from a deep bronze to a light tan.

"He's…he's out? Out with Daryl? He's not here?" Mason asked, tripping over his words.

"Is there something wrong?" broached Rick.

"_No_—I just thought he could take Judith and go for a little walk," he said all too quickly, aware that Rick was watching him suspiciously. "Get him moving and such."

"Oh, you know, Beth has been taking her out after her noon feedings," supplied Sasha. "She usually goes with one of the older ladies. I think Sue is with her today."

Several different expressions ran across Mason's face and his lips worked on chewing back whatever it was he was thinking.

"Beth and…Judith? I—I guess that's ok…yes that's fine!" Mason finally decided. "Well I guess I don't need Carl after all," he tried to laugh off. "Maybe I'll go with them. She's such a _nice_ girl. Thanks Rick."

Without another word, Mason left the group almost as quickly as he joined them.

"That was odd," noted Glenn. "Since when does Mason give a crap about Carl?"

"As long as he isn't complaining about anyone, we shouldn't question it. He was just trying to get him to spend some time with his sister," said Maggie.

"Agreed," said Rick. "Let's go inside and see what we still have to do for tomorrow."

Rick led the back to the cell block where they could all go over the wedding plans once more. He let everyone else go ahead of him and stopped to turn back and faced the woods. Several birds flew from the trees and he figured they'd been stirred up by Daryl and Carl, but more than likely by Carl. _They'll be ok out there,_ he assured himself again.

* * *

The footsteps of the two hunters startled the five doves that were resting on a tired old branch and they flew into the afternoon sky. Only Daryl spared any thought towards the soft fluttering as the birds took flight: if they had been sitting still, he might've tried to pick one off, but in the air he didn't want to waste the arrow.

Carl observed Daryl's every move and often found himself copying his actions. If Daryl walked around a tree, Carl took the same path. If Daryl stopped to check a trail, Carl held back and waited for him to start again. He wasn't about to be caught off guard. He wasn't going to let the man get behind him either: can't be shot in the back of the head if the other person can't see it.

Daryl was aware that Carl was watching him closely. He figured it wouldn't be so awkward if he knew what to say to the kid but talking about Rick was a touchy subject for both of them. However he couldn't take Carl back to the prison without at least attempting to first. He promised Rick that much.

"Ya gotta go easier on yer old man," Daryl said stepping over a fallen log. "I know ya don't wanna hear it but ya do."

Carl was silent as he walked along five feet behind Daryl, his face as grave as it ever was.

"He's doin' the best he can…the best any of us can," tried Daryl. "He's the best leader we've got even if it doesn't always look like it. Can ya trust me on that?"

Daryl turned to look back at Carl and was surprised to see Carl almost jump. Damn the kid was being strange.

"He's alright in my book…don't know how much that means to ya. I know I wouldn't a gotten us this far," said Daryl before turning again to the trail he was following. "Never woulda thought to settle in a prison. Probably woulda gone until we found Woodbury, then we'd be in that mess there. He knows how ya feel now and ya can't keep throwin' it in his face like that. He's been through as much as any of us and that ain't fair to him. If ya want, ya can come to me when ya gotta problem and we can both talk to him."

Daryl wasn't real sure what he expected to get out of Carl. He knew he was still back there and keeping up with him by the crunch of leaves and sticks under his boots. He really wanted to ask what Carl was thinking when he pulled his gun but that subject was probably off limits.

"_Like I'm talkin' to myself_," he mumbled and then to Carl, "if ya want, the two of us can go on that fishin' trip. I'd like some time away from here. Think it'd be good to get away for a few days. Maybe ya can bring Noah…seen ya gettin' close with him."

There was no change in Carl and Daryl knelt down to examine a set of deer tracks. The kid was giving him nothing to work with. The silence was actually beginning to irritate him.

"Tracks are fresh...might've been made this mornin'," he remarked more to himself than to Carl.

Daryl remained kneeling around the tracks and Carl took a slow step forward. The move didn't attract Daryl's attention and he picked up his other foot and brought it down cautiously to avoid making any noise that'd give him away. He paused when Daryl looked up and around the forest in front of him but appeared to be oblivious about the boy closing in on his back. Carl took two more steps and stopped. His shadow was being cast away from and not over Daryl so he still had the element of surprise. Carl raised his gun and centered it on the back of Daryl's head. He smiled at his apparent luck: Daryl was never going to see it coming.

Something hard bumped into the back of Daryl's head and then he heard the hammer on a gun being pulled back. He needed half a second to connect the two and realized someone was about to blow his brain out. It took him another second to work out whose finger was on the trigger. Unless the Governor or Mason were able to sneak up on him, Carl was the one coming dangerously close to ending his life.

Neither Carl nor Daryl panicked. For Carl, it was only as simple as a squeeze of his finger and he'd be done with Daryl. He could leave the body in the woods and return saying they'd been caught in another herd and Daryl sacrificed himself. They'd believe it after all the heroics Daryl had pulled.

Daryl however was only calm on the outside. He'd put up with the brat for long enough and stuck his own neck out for him on more than one occasion and this was how he was getting repaid? Hell no.

"Carl, ya better pull the trigger or yer gonna wish ya pulled the trigger," Daryl warned in a slow, harsh whisper.

Carl's brow wrinkled as he thought over Daryl's advice but he continued to hold the gun steady.

_One_, thought Daryl.

The barrel of the gun nudged him slightly again but he was still there: Carl hadn't taken the shot yet.

_Two_.

Carl exhaled, finger pressing slightly on the trigger.

In one thought, Daryl finished his countdown and ducked, swinging his head away from the barrel of Carl's gun. He reached around and grabbed hold of Carl's wrist, twisting it until he was forced to drop the gun.

The gun hit the forest floor with a heavy thud; two pairs of eyes watching where it lay. Before either knew what they were doing, Carl jerked out of Daryl's hand and dove for it. Daryl responded with a powerful shove from his shoulder to knock Carl away. They both landed on their backs, the gun on the far side of Daryl. Carl scrambled to his knees and tried to dive over Daryl but was caught round his middle and pulled down. His lithe body was no match for the strong arms restraining him and he thrashed against Daryl's chest. Carl's fingers managed to work around Daryl and reached out for the gun before Daryl gained control of that hand as well.

Daryl finally forced both of Carl's hands into one of his own and stood, dragging the boy up along with him. He held him tight against him despite how much Carl continued to struggle.

"The hell is wrong with ya?" growled Daryl.

For an answer, Carl kicked his right foot back as hard as he could and smashed it into Daryl's knee. Daryl's leg instantly buckled and he was thrown off balance. Carl used the change in the man's momentum to wrench himself free. He threw himself into Daryl's stomach and knocked him flat on his back. Before Daryl could swat him away, Carl punched him right in the jaw.

The hit was painful and it rattled Daryl's vision but what hurt the most was that it was a real punch with meaning behind it. It wasn't like those thrown when Rick and Daryl had taught him some self defense moves that stung for a second and were then promptly forgotten. Carl put more into it than what Daryl thought he would. He saw it in Carl's eyes that he was about to get another, and sure enough a glancing blow grazed his chin. There was no way in hell that Daryl was going to allow a third one.

Daryl summoned the strength he usually reserved for drawing his crossbow and tossed Carl off him like a rag doll. Carl rolled on the ground and sprung up, fists raised. Breathing heavily, Daryl was on his feet right after him. He took a defensive stance to deflect whatever Carl was about to try.

Carl screeched and ran forward swinging wildly. Daryl easily maneuvered out the way of each failed punch but he was losing his patience with the boy.

"The hell is wrong with ya?" Daryl asked again, dodging what would have been a shot to his left ribs.

"I hate you!" screamed Carl. "I hate all of you!"

Carl threw his arm out again, forcing Daryl back and over the gun putting it between the two combatants. The each eyed it and stepped forward at the same time with fists ready to go to war for it.

Carl swung wide but Daryl's fist found its target. He felt Carl's nose crunch under his hand, blood spluttering from both nostrils.

For one punch there were two hits.

Carl stumbled to the side and looked up at Daryl; the anger and hate in his eyes was replaced with complete fear of the man he was facing. In that same instant, Daryl was dragged back to a different time. That wasn't Carl standing in front of him: that was his teenage self with a busted nose. He knew that look for it was the same one in his eyes when his father was beating him. It was the terror caused by the betrayal of a loved one. And on Daryl's right hand, he saw the same split knuckles of his father.

"_Shit_—Carl, I'm so sorry," whispered Daryl.

Carl began to whimper as his hands cupped his broken nose and blood leaked between his fingers. Daryl stepped forward and offered a helping hand but Carl cowered and shrank back.

"Carl…I didn't mean it…lemme see—"

Before Daryl could finish, Carl swept down and picked up the fallen gun and ran pell-mell into the woods.

Daryl started after him but he didn't get but ten yards before his heart gave out on him. He sank to the ground and tried to shut out the man he had just become.

* * *

Daryl sulked his way back to the prison. He had never felt worse in his entire life. In one hit, he became everything he never wanted to be.

And on top of giving Carl what was sure to be a broken nose, he let Rick down. He promised that he'd take Carl and straighten him out, not lay him out. It didn't matter that Carl had considered shooting him. The kid's head was all over the place and punching it wasn't going to do anyone any favors. Daryl had done the exact opposite of what he was supposed to. How could he honestly say he cared for Carl when he hit the damn kid? A kid. Carl was just a kid.

"_Shit, shit, shit_," cursed Daryl, slamming the gate shut behind him. "Ain't no better than _him_. Son of a bitch."

Daryl was able to avoid most everyone as he made his way towards the cell block but out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Tyreese pointing in his direction. He looked fully at the man and saw Rick come around the corner of one of the nearby cars.

"Daryl!" he called and picked up his pace.

Daryl flinched at his own name and looked for a way out of the situation. Hell, he and Rick had just made right and now he was supposed to tell a sheriff—a damn sheriff—that he punched his kid? In another day, Daryl would've lied through his teeth to get himself out of it but this was Rick. He owed him as much to tell him that he failed.

Rick's face fell once he realized Carl was not with Daryl and it didn't look like Daryl had gotten a deer.

"Daryl, how did it go?" Rick asked eagerly, making Daryl's stomach turn. "You're back a lot faster than I thought you'd be."

"Didn't go as good as it shoulda," came Daryl's low reply.

"What happened? Where's Carl?"

That was a damn good question.

"He's takin' a break."

"Taking a break? Taking a break from what?" questioned Rick.

"From bein' a little piece of shit," spat Daryl.

Rick pulled back some and looked over Daryl. The man's hair was matted with a leaf or two stuck in it. His clothes also seemed dirtier than what he went out in. There was also a flush in Daryl's cheeks that was usually absent.

"Where's Carl?" Rick repeated with a sense of urgency.

"Still out there," said Daryl, nodding towards the trees.

"What happened?" asked Rick. He noticed that Daryl tucked his right hand into his back pocket before he started to speak.

"We started arguing and got into it…" said Daryl; his words quite calm though he felt hollow and like an inadequate piece of shit. "Couldn't get through to him like I thought I could. He'll be back later."

Rick could tell from Daryl's face that he wasn't himself and guessed he was only being given part of the truth.

"Is he armed? I don't want him to be out there alone if he can't defend himself."

"Yeah, he's got his gun," said Daryl. "If he's not back soon, I'll go out lookin' for him before it gets dark."

"Thanks for trying," said Rick as he put his hand on Daryl's shoulder. "I'm sure whatever happened wasn't your fault. We'll do something when he gets back."

Daryl turned and lowered his head as he walked away leaving Rick a little puzzled but certain Carl was not yet a lost cause.

* * *

A/N: Originally this was A LOT longer but I decided to split it in two so there wouldn't be as much going on. Part two will be out tomorrow. Freaking Carl...

Anyways…I want to thank everyone for their well wishes. It really is a great feeling to know that total strangers can be so compassionate. And thank you for all the favorites and follows. I look forward to hearing what you thought of this one.


	34. Going to the Governor

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore.

* * *

The prison was settled into a peaceful afternoon and Beth was out for her usual walk with Judith following her noon feeding. The girls were generally joined by an older lady or two from Woodbury and Sue, a cheery former preacher's wife, decided to tag along.

The three had just left the cell block when they heard a man shouting for Beth and Sue causing them to turn around: Mr. Mason was running towards them at full speed. He caught up with the three nearly out of breath.

"Beth, Sue," he panted, "I heard you two are going for a walk. How about I come with you?"

"That's not really necessary Ray, but thank you," Sue said sweetly. "We just gossip and such; it won't be your thing."

"No, no I won't mind," said Mason hastily. "In fact Beth, I wanted to talk to you some about the wedding tomorrow. I know you're the maid of honor and sort of in charge of it all. See, there are all these flowers out towards the back of the prison and I wanted to get your opinion on them. I think they would be lovely for Maggie's bouquet."

Beth looked thoughtful for a moment as if she were trying to picture Maggie and the wedding.

"Do you remember what color?" she asked, shifting Judith in her arms.

"Oh, there are all sorts. Maggie can have whatever color she wants. But I was thinking we could go check them out first so you know what's there and can talk to her. I'm not good with all that bridal stuff."

"That sounds like a good idea," said Sue and Beth nodded in agreement. "Lead the way."

Mason looked over Sue and sighed. She was not supposed to be part of the deal. Neither was Beth but Beth was closer to Rick which made her valuable. If Carl couldn't be obtained, Beth would be about the next best thing. If something happened to her, it'd upset Hershel and Maggie. And if Maggie was upset, Glenn would be too and then Rick because of Glenn. Oh yes, what an easy way to rip the prison apart right down its center.

"It's back this way," said Mason and led the women on.

"It'll be nice to have something to celebrate tomorrow," said Sue. "We had a gathering or two in Woodbury but it wasn't like this."

"Really?" asked Beth. "From what I heard Woodbury was a bad place."

"It wasn't in the beginning. Philip or the Governor was a very good man. He took care of us. He never turned a soul away and made sure all that came in were taken care of. If they didn't want to stay, he'd give them supplies and they'd be free to go," explained Sue as they walked. "I was in one of the first groups he rescued. He was quite a charming man when he wanted to be. I'm sorry for all he did to your friends," she said to Beth.

"Let's talk about something nicer," said Mason seeing Beth's long face. "Why don't you tell me about Maggie's dress?"

"It's just a simple lace one because she didn't want anything too fancy," pouted Beth. "At least Carol and I were able to get her in one. I almost thought she was going to be in that prison jumpsuit of hers."

"Well hopefully it doesn't rain," remarked Sue. "I was up in one of the towers earlier and it looked like some storms might move in later this afternoon."

"I always thought rain on a wedding day was good luck," said Mason.

"It is," piped in Beth. "But not when the ceremony is supposed to be outdoors."

"Well, maybe it will rain tonight and cool everything down for tomorrow—settle the dust a bit," added Sue hopefully.

"Yes perhaps so," said Mason thoughtfully. "Oh, this way…the flowers are back here."

Mason waved for Sue and Beth to walk in front of him as he herded them down a narrow passage between the prison building and the fence.

"Just a little farther," he encouraged with a glance over his shoulder. "They're just up ahead."

Beth squinted as she looked on the outside of the fence. They hadn't been passing many flowers and those they did were Cherokee Roses whose history with the group had not been the kindest. For Carol's sake they were going to avoid using them. However, Beth soon spotted a hole in the fence and guessed the better flowers could be found not too far away.

"Ray, what the hell is this?" asked the voice of a man Beth did not recognize. She quickly looked for the source of it and saw a well built Hispanic man step around the corner of the building. "How is this what we talked about?"

"Who-who are you?" stammered Beth, backing into Sue. "You don't belong here."

The man raised a gun towards the women and Beth also saw a baseball bat tucked into a crude holster at his hip. Beth opened her mouth to scream but Mason wrapped his hand over it preventing any sound from coming out. The girl struggled but several more men appeared next to the first, all with guns or knives and ready to fight if necessary.

"Shhhh…" whispered Martinez as he approached. "We're not going to hurt you. This is going to be a lot easier on all of us if you pay attention to me and do and do as I say. Can you do that?"

Beth whimpered and gave a weak nod against Mason's hand.

"That's good," applauded Martinez. "Now, Mason is going to release you so I can talk with him. But if either of you ladies makes one sound or tries to run away, these men will shoot you. Is that understood?"

Beth and Sue looked at each other in terror but each nodded.

"Ok, let her go Ray."

Ray reluctantly let Beth go and stalked over to Martinez. Martinez raised his hand in the air and waved. Six more men appeared from behind the trees on the outside of the fence and rushed through the hole. They surrounded Beth, Judith, and Sue with their weapons aimed in at them.

"What the hell is this?" Martinez asked and smacked Mason upside his head. "Do you not know the difference between boys and girls? What happened to bringing Carl and the baby?"

Mason rubbed the back of his head and glared at Martinez. "Carl took off with Daryl. They're out in the woods. This is the best I could do without calling the whole thing off."

"_Shit_," swore Martinez. "We needed Carl. There's no guarantee that Rick will care about the girl and the old lady. He might come out after the baby but if there's a chance it's not his, he could decide to let her go."

"You can always try tomorrow—"

Martinez smacked Mason a second time.

"You really think we'll be able to walk right in again like we did today? They're going to have sentries every fifty yards. This was our one chance…you shouldn't have brought them," he hissed.

"Yeah, and if I didn't show up I figured you'd start poking around and be caught. I did what I needed to. You have to take them."

"I know I do," growled Martinez. "But first I'm gonna tell you I'm pissed about it. And second I'm gonna tell you the Governor is going to be pissed about it. I don't like the idea of taking along a girl and an old lady."

Mason shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.

"Whatever," sighed Martinez, walking back to Beth, Judith, and Sue. "Ok ladies, I promise nothing is going to happen to you. Now this baby is Judith, isn't it?" he asked Beth.

Beth nodded, too afraid to make any other noise or action.

"Alright, I'm going to let you carry her but if you try to run, you will be shot. I really don't want to do that. Shump, tie the other woman's hands."

Martinez moved so Shumpert would be allowed access to Sue.

"No," snapped Sue. "I'm not going to let you do this." She backed away from Shumpert and into one of the men behind her. She was able to scream for a half second before the man's hands cupped over her mouth. The old lady thrashed from side to side but was no match for the skill and strength of the man half her age.

Judith woke and began to cry at the commotion and one of Martinez's men shouted for her to be silenced. Beth worked around her own tears and rocked the baby while softly cooing in her ear. The little girl could not be soothed though and her wailing became louder.

"I said for her to be quiet!" yelled the same man as before.

"I'm trying!" said Beth, and indeed the girl was doing her best to calm Judith. Sue was still struggling with the man restraining her and had managed to sink to her knees to get somewhat away from him.

"God damn it!" roared Mason. "This is going to bring in every biter out there and alert the prison. Get her under control now!"

The fight between Sue and the man continued and only made things with Judith worse. The baby thrashed in Beth's arms and was becoming difficult for her to hold on to. Her cries were also attracting walkers and several of the things lunged against the fence. Some of the men were then forced to break ranks to deal with the undead and Martinez looked frazzled with the whole situation. So much for a quick grab and go.

"That's it," said Mason rushing by one of the men and stealing his pistol. "I've had enough of this shit."

There was a silenced pop from the gun and Sue stilled; blood leaking from a hole in her chest. The man holding onto Sue released her dead body and it slumped to the ground.

Beth shrieked but Shumpert covered her mouth to keep her noise to an acceptable level. Mason stared down at Sue's body and spit in her direction.

"It's her own damn fault," he said and returned the gun to the man he'd taken it from. "Told her to be quiet. And let that be a lesson to you Beth."

Beth's face was drained of what little color it had. She closed her eyes tightly as tears streaked down her cheeks and ran off her chin. Judith was pulled in closer to her chest and cradled firmly.

Martinez ran for Mason and grabbed his shoulder and turned him. "What the hell was that?" he demanded of the older man.

"What?" asked Mason. "You can't tell me you wouldn't have done the same thing."

"No, I wasn't going to do that. Come on, that was Sue. We knew her. We could have worked that out peacefully. You didn't have to shoot her."

Mason shook Martinez's hand off him and sent a disgusted look around at the other men. "My, my well it seems like a hell of a time to have a moral awakening—especially coming from the man that organized the kidnapping of a couple of kids. Tell me Caesar, which way does your moral compass really point?"

Martinez's eyes narrowed, an angry flush of red creeping into his cheeks; a hand tightening his grip on his own gun.

"Whichever way I want it to," he said and raised his gun to Mason's head.

The barrel of the gun was the last thing that Mason ever saw and then he fell to the ground with a bullet between his eyes. Beth fought against Shumpert at having seen a second person killed right in front of her.

"I'm so tired of this shit," scowled Martinez.

"What are we going to tell the Governor about Mason?" asked Shumpert, finally getting Beth and Judith under control.

"He's not going to care about that asshole. Hell, Ray was a traitor to the people here at the prison…we didn't need that back with us. If the Governor has any problem with this, it's on me," Martinez nodded to the men. "Let's get going. Looks like it might rain later."

The first of the Governor's men went through the hole in the fence to clear the way of walkers. Shumpert gave the trembling Beth a firm shove towards the fence. "Nothing funny now," he whispered as she went through the hole. Beth had to hand Judith off to one of the men so she could climb through. On the other side, her hands were tied and the baby was not given back. Shumpert followed closely behind her, and then the other men after him. Martinez was the last through the hole and into the woods. He stopped briefly and looked around at the prison and then at the bodies of Mason and Sue.

"Sorry Sue," he said and fell in line at the back of the retreating raiding party.

* * *

Carl ran blindly through the trees, only narrowing avoiding the low branches at the last second. His entire face throbbed, especially his nose. He knew it was broken as soon as Daryl punched him and now he had a bloody shirt and mouth because of it. Every time he reached up to it he jerked away from his own touch, its tenderness being too sharp to mess with.

He couldn't hate Daryl for it. It was his own fault and Daryl had even warned him that he was going to get his ass kicked if he didn't cut his crap. He hadn't been led into the forest to be shot, he was being brought out for a chance to cool down and he ruined it.

"_Damn it_," sobbed Carl and slowed his running into a fast walk. He turned his shirt up to wipe away some of the fresh blood that was still dripping from his nose. He'd really done it this time. And what was Daryl going to be telling everyone back at the prison? If he thought things were bad before, he would have hell to pay for pulling his gun on Daryl.

Daryl who had saved his life.

Daryl. The man that always had his back. The person he felt the closest to. The one that he could relate to. The one that always stuck up for him and actually cared about him.

"I'm sorry Daryl," whispered Carl. "I'm so stupid."

Carl figured he'd be grounded at the very least, and he'd just been allowed to resume his normal activities again. Not to mention the hell Daryl was going to have to pay when Rick discovered he'd punched a kid. Daryl was a good guy though; maybe he'd say…Carl stopped. He didn't know what the man could possibly say to get either of them both off the hook for this screw up. Unless Daryl returned to the prison and said Carl had run off without him. That was likely, wasn't it?

Carl's face brightened. If Daryl didn't say they got into a fight and that he'd just taken off, Carl could give his own explanation for his broken nose. He could say he was mad at Daryl and wanted to get away. He'd vouch for Daryl and say he tried to go after him but eventually lost track of him. Then Carl could tell them he had tripped and hit his head on a rock. He was then too embarrassed by his own clumsiness to immediately return. Yes, that would work. Both he and Daryl could get out of this latest blunder with little repercussion.

Carl halted his progress and leaned against a tree to take stock of his surroundings. Everything looked foreign to him. He didn't recognize any landmarks and all the trees blended into one another. Daryl would be able to tell him exactly where they were. He could probably be blind and still know his way around better than anyone else. Carl tried to think of what Daryl would do in his current situation and came up short. First, he wouldn't have done anything as stupid as what Carl did. Secondly, he wouldn't get lost.

"_Crap_," muttered Carl and moved away from the tree. He thought about going back the way he came except he wasn't really sure what way that was. Most of the time he ran with his eyes nearly shut and his hands in front of him to keep from hitting any trees or branches. Something in his gut though told Carl he didn't run too deep into the forest but maybe he had circled around the prison. If he was lucky, he was at the back of it and could find his way to the front by following the fence. Carl figured that was his best chance and started to walk towards what he guessed was the direction of the prison.

He walked along for several minutes without much incident. There were a few walkers that stumbled through the trees that he had to put down but that was nothing new. Eventually he came to a narrow dirt path and decided to follow it.

Carl came around a bend in the path and to a tree that had once been split by lightning. He walked around it but then stopped and frowned at the cigarette butts littering the ground. He knelt down and picked one up: it looked fresh. He wasn't an expert in decomposition but he knew it didn't look old. There were ones around it that were turning brown and falling apart but some looked like they had been smoked rather recently.

_Think like Daryl._

Carl replaced the cigarette butt and brushed his fingertips across the ground. His eyes fell upon a set of boot prints and then another. Carl stood and looked around: the entire area was covered in the prints. In front of him, he identified at least seven distinctive sets based on their relative sizes and differences in the patterns left in the dirt. Someone had been using this trail and recently too. He quickly dismissed the idea that is was walkers: they didn't smoke and shuffled so their prints would be messier.

"_I've got to tell my dad_," Carl thought quickly. He could just see the Governor walking along the trail everyday and using it to scout out the prison.

Carl burst into a run down the path. He ignored the way his speed made the air he was cutting through sting his hurt nose. A few minutes of discomfort was well worth it if he could prevent another attack from the Governor or better; follow the trail to wherever he was hiding out.

The boy kept running and then heard voices coming from the direction in which he was headed. He skidded to a stop and listened. They were too far away for him to easily distinguish but they didn't sound familiar. Carl immediately stepped off the path and hid behind a nearby tree. He crouched low and waited. A moment later a middle aged man he did not recognize walked into view. That man was followed by three more, all decently armed.

Carl dropped his breathing and sank lower, peeking through the leaves on a bush. A fifth man appeared that kept looking over his shoulder at those behind him.

"Keep her quiet," he said to the person Carl couldn't quite see.

"_Her?_" thought Carl and then heard the muffled crying of a baby being carried by another man. A baby wrapped in Judith's blanket. Carl swallowed hard. How was it possible? Something had happed. They'd been attacked. Were the others ok?

He instantly began to panic assuming that he had somehow missed a massacre at the prison and was now the sole survivor. He was about to take his chances with the men and open fire from his hiding spot but then a blonde head of hair bobbed into view.

Beth.

The girl walked between two men, the latter with a gun trained lazily on her back. Her hands were tied behind her but other than that she looked like she hadn't been harmed. When she got closer, Carl could see that she had been crying and was still in the process of it. He counted another four men in the line after her and knew he'd be outgunned in a second if he tried anything.

Unsure of what he'd find back at the prison if he returned there, Carl considered his only other option and set his gun down at the base of the tree.

"Don't shoot," he said raising his hands and stepping to the side of the tree.

Every gun and knife in the ensemble was instantaneously pointed in his direction. He thanked every bit of luck he had left that none of these guys were overly trigger happy or he'd be dead.

"Don't shoot," Carl repeated and raised his arms higher into the air. "I'm unarmed."

Beth's eyes went wide in disbelief. "_Carl!_" she nearly squealed.

"Who the hell is this?" asked one of the men. "Do we shoot him?"

"We need to," said another. "He's going to run back and tell them."

"Shit, you're right," said the first. The man pulled the hammer on his gun back and aimed it at Carl's head.

"Hold up there," said a Hispanic man from the back of the line. He rushed forward and pushed the man's gun down. "Your name's Carl?"

Carl nodded weakly.

Martinez's mouth slowly broke into a smile and then a laugh. Well if this wasn't his lucky day. The others around him weren't quite sure what Martinez was so happy about and didn't drop their guard as quickly as he had.

Carl looked to Beth and then at Judith and back to Beth.

"Can I come with you?" he asked, his voice quivering with every syllable.

Martinez's laughter ended. "What did you just say?" disbelief heavy in his voice.

"Can I come with you?" Carl repeated. "I want to come with you. I hate that prison and everyone there. I want to come with you."

"You—" Martinez stopped. This was _Rick's_ kid and he was actually offering to be kidnapped? Could it be called kidnapping if the kid wanted to be taken? It was almost too good to be true. "Why?" he asked carefully.

Carl bit his lip then looked down at his bloody shirt. "Just hate 'em," he said. "Don't have to have a reason for it."

Martinez came closer to Carl and bent down to his level. He grabbed Carl's chin and turned his face to the side to get a look at his nose. "Someone hit you?" he asked. Carl nodded. "Damn…yeah, that's broken. Recent?"

"Yes…"

Martinez smiled and released Carl's chin. "I'm sorry about that. That baby is your sister, isn't she?"

"Yes," answered Carl.

Martinez looked down on the boy with a sense of understanding. If he hadn't come forward, they would've walked right on by and been none the wiser. But this was his sister and he wanted to make sure nothing bad happened to her.

"Alright Carl," said Martinez as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a zip tie. "The Governor is going to be happy to meet you."

Carl refused to show any change in emotion as his hands were bound and Martinez searched him to make sure he was truly unarmed. He wasn't going to be afraid of the Governor. Whatever these guys had planned, it sounded like he was only going to be a bargaining chip in it. If he kept his wits about him, he could make sure Beth and Judith stayed safe too.

Carl was shoved in line next to Beth and he rose up on his toes so he could reach her ear.

"Don't worry…I'll take care of you," he whispered. "I'll get us out of this."

"Hey! No talking," said a rough voice and Carl was pulled from Beth's side. He glared up at the man but wasn't going to push his luck. Instead, Carl acted like he tripped and fell to the ground. His sheriff hat came off his head and left it where it lay. He got back up to his feet quickly before anyone would notice his altered appearance. Someone would find it.

"Come on," ordered Martinez. "Rain will be moving in soon."

* * *

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has favorited or followed this story and for all of your reviews as well. I'm sorry that I'm not the best at answering them. I'll get better. Also, I wanted to make Martinez into a bit of a good guy because we do know he had a wife and kids so I'd like to think he may have some compassion left in him.

mcjonz- thank you so much! Carl is a difficult one. I feel like the kid has always acted off his own agenda when making decisions.

Sierra Ramon- I'm glad you're still enjoying it!

Angela- hopefully you liked Mason's death and the chapter!

Peachuzoid- thank you :) Don't worry, you're going to get a lot more Rickyl. But I think I'm worse with reviews actually. There was a lot to take in with that last chapter. Looks like Daryl didn't find Carl though. That's probably going to be a problem.

PandamoniumPress- well, you nailed Carl joining the Governor. It really surprised me when you said that because no one else had really thought of it.

Deanandjo4ever1- thank you. Now, you sure seem set in that Carl needs a pretty good spanking. Wonder how going to the Governor will work for him?

Purehalo- thank you. I'm glad things got patched up between R&D, they sure needed it. Carl on the otherhand…it's going to be interesting to see how things go for everyone from this point on.

Mrskaz453- thank you. Are you sure that Carl can't be brought back? And no, Mason can't take them back to the Governor because he's dead; about time! More R/D to come!

AddictedtoCaffine- I hope this fic is living up to your expectations.

Peta2- oh the Governor is going to damage a lot when he gets going. Beth, Judith, and Carl are just the start of it, not to spoil anything…..

Candra 'wolfgal97'- get ready for some Rickyl overload!

WhatWhereWhen- thank you and your English is great. I wish I could speak another language. I can't you don't like Rick. But everyone likes Rick. Rick is awesome! And no, I wouldn't let Daryl take a bullet for Rick. That'd be too easy.

CocoChuba- Carl has really done it this time. But you really wanted Rick to die? Ouch. Poor guy.

itsi3- I really liked what you said about Carl needing to find his path. And ironically, he did stumble upon an actual path this chapter, and yes, hopefully it will be the right one.

Jokerang- Carl IS really damaged and I wouldn't put it past him to kill someone.

Siberz- thank you for your review and yes, I do focus a lot of Carl/Rick/Daryl mainly because those are the ones I feel most comfortable with writing. But there will be more with the others I'd say starting pretty soon. But thanks for saying it's good, made my night!

Therm- yes, it was a lot to get through in that chapter. Daryl's little lie to Rick might turn out to be bigger than he thinks. And Mason is gone! Hurray!

Pass the Porn Tea- thank you for your reviews and I have found them helpful. I like to think of Carl as relatively unstable. He is prone to rash decision making and outbursts and I've never been able to predict what he is going to do next in the show. He is a kid and they don't think things through and often overreact to situations or misunderstandings. I like to leave some of character development up to the reader to infer for themselves (show vs. telling). But thank you again and I value your input.

Effigy- Carl does deserve what he got and it served to wake him up.

Lilhanna- hopefully I can keep it intense!

Hopefully that was everyone!


	35. Welcome

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore.

* * *

"_Damn it_," muttered Daryl while he ran a dampened cloth over his knuckles in the safety of his cell. He hoped the small cuts would hurry up and close so he wouldn't be forced to walk around with the reminder of what he'd done to Carl. Plus as soon as Rick worked out what happened…Daryl didn't want to go there.

When Daryl finished cleaning his hand, he threw himself back on his bed. His mind raced with 'what if' scenarios and how to approach Carl when the kid returned. He'd apologize straight up, that was a given. He'd also do just about anything to keep him from telling Rick what happened. They'd only just made up and Daryl never wanted that to change.

Daryl sat up suddenly in bed as he heard a distant booming sound. He looked out the window and saw it was noticeably darker than what it normally was that time of day and rain drops were being blown inside the prison from the open windows.

So Carl was going to be caught out in a storm now too. Well if his day wasn't getting better by the moment, thought Daryl sarcastically.

Daryl hopped off the top bunk and immediately shouldered his crossbow. If the storm wasn't going to chase Carl back in, he was going to go out looking for him. He'd probably have to take Rick too since it _was_ his kid.

Daryl hurried down the stairs as Tyreese and Glenn worked on closing the windows.

"Daryl, mind getting the last one?" called Glenn. Daryl stopped, momentarily debated his course of action and then went to help out. "Thanks, I hope Maggie isn't going to be mad at about the rain. It might make things too muddy for the wedding tomorrow."

"Then move it back a day," said Tyreese. "It's not like you've put a deposit down on the place."

"I know…hey Daryl! Where are you off to?"

Once Daryl had finished closing his windows, he had tried to slink out of the room without drawing too much attention but it seemed to of backfired.

"Gonna go out for a minute," he said rather sheepishly.

"Out? What in this?"

"Got a problem with what I do?" he barked back at Glenn.

"No…just don't want you to get struck by lightning and miss my wedding," said Glenn and then his face twisted into a mischievous smile. "Carol is a bridesmaid, you know what that means…"

Daryl's eyes narrowed and he glared at both Glenn and Tyreese. "The hell is wrong with all ya'll? Ain't ya got better things to do than try and get me laid?"

"Well you could use it," said Carol as she, Maggie, and Karen emerged from Karen's cell. The three women grinned at Daryl. "You've been really tense lately," she pouted.

Daryl honestly couldn't argue with that and remained mute.

"Who's been tense?" asked Rick as he entered the cellblock with Hershel and Michonne.

"Daryl," said Karen, filling in the blank for Rick.

"Funny thing Daryl," said Glenn with an extra large smile. "When I first met you I thought you were so backwards that you'd try and use a squirrel as a condom."

At that comment, Daryl looked like he was ready for blood despite the heavy blush in his cheeks. Everyone around him broke into a laugh that echoed off the cement walls and only deepened his embarrassment.

"That explains why he's always off hunting for squirrels…must have a pretty good stockpile," said Maggie, catching her breath. "Are you ever going to use them?"

Carol buried her head in the crook of her arm in an attempt at muffling her laughter while Glenn and Tyreese nearly fell into one another. Karen grinned behind her hand and Rick had the biggest, stupidest smile that Daryl had ever seen. Michonne caught Daryl's eye and he saw a sense of pity in her face. He needed her pity as much as he needed the jokes about his nonexistent sex life. He was fine the way he was.

"I ain't gotta listen to this," he said deeply and resumed his course to find Carl.

"Daryl…don't be like that," pleaded Carol. "We're kidding."

"I know ya are but it doesn't mean I gotta listen to it," he snapped. "Got better things to do."

Before Daryl was able to take another step, a thick bolt of lightning slammed down all too near the prison. The thundered boomed right on top of it and rattled everything from the metal beds, windows, and even the cement floors. Everyone covered their ears and ducked like they were about to be struck by lightning themselves.

"That was a close one," said Glenn once the trembling echoes died away.

"It probably struck a tree in the forest," said Tyreese. "Did we get everyone in from the field?"

"Yes," answered Rick. "Hershel, Michonne, and I were the last ones in. We made sure Woodbury returned to their cellblock."

"Then where's Carl?" wondered Michonne. "Daryl, you were out with him."

"He's not back yet?" asked Rick.

"Nope…gonna go look for him," said Daryl.

"I'll come with you," volunteered Glenn. Daryl gave him a quick nod and Glenn rushed into his cell to retrieve his gun.

"Are we sure he isn't hiding somewhere in the prison?" asked Hershel. "I don't think it's a good idea to be running off in a storm like this."

"That's true…he might be hunkered down with Beth, Judith, and Sue," said Karen. "I know none of them are back yet."

Daryl was on his way out the door but froze and Glenn nearly ran into him.

"What do ya mean they ain't back yet?" demanded Daryl as he stormed back over. "Where the hell they go?"

"Beth takes Judith for a walk everyday about this time although I would've thought they'd return if they saw the storm coming," said Karen.

"I haven't seen Beth," said Maggie with a shake of her head. "But she wouldn't let Judith be out in this weather. She'll take her inside somewhere."

"Where do they usually walk?" asked Daryl.

Maggie shrugged her shoulders. "Um, everywhere? Sometimes around the field and sometimes she goes to the back of the prison."

"If she was in the field she would've come in here," said Michonne.

"So they went to the back of the prison…is there much place for them to get out of the weather there?" asked Karen.

"No," said Rick forcefully. "We've had all those buildings on lockdown. There might be an awning they could get under but they're still out in it."

"Then what the hell are we waitin' for? Lets go get 'em!" shouted Daryl. The prison jumped into action and raced outside. Their eyes and skin were stung by the pelting ran and they kept as close to the walls as possible. As they ran, someone would break off and check various hiding places but they always came up empty.

"Are you out here Beth?" yelled Maggie when they neared the back side of the prison. "Beth! Are you-"

"Walker!" Carol shouted over Maggie and pointed towards the fence. As one, the group looked and saw an old female walker chowing down on the body of someone. Fearing that the person was Beth, panic spread and they broke into a run leaving poor Hershel to hobble along after them.

Rick reached the walker first and destroyed it with a blow from his machete. It dropped to the ground on top of the body it'd been eating.

"How did it-"

"Hole in the fence," said Michonne before Glenn could finish his question.

Frowning gravely, Rick kicked the walker off the body below it and instantly recoiled.

"_Mason?_" gasped Karen.

"How, why...where's Beth and Sue?" asked Carol.

"It's not Beth?" asked Hershel once he arrived, concern evident in his voice.

"No," said Rick sharply, "it's Mason..." Rick looked quickly up at Daryl to gauge his reaction to this find. If Mason was dead he wouldn't put it past Daryl to have something to do with it but as it stood, Daryl was as surprised as they all were. Rick and Tyreese both turned the walker over and their hands fell away in shock.

"Oh my god," gasped Maggie. "That's Sue."

"How did this happen?" asked Karen. "This doesn't make any sense. Did she have a heart attack and turn with Mason here?"

"She sure ain't been bit...we'd see another of 'em in here if that was it," said Daryl.

Rick ignored the conversation going on around him and begun to search for Sue's cause of death. He and Tyreese rolled up sleeves and pants to be sure she was bite free. Tyreese started to unbutton her shirt when he noticed a small hole and blood stain on the fabric. He nudged Rick and pointed at Sue's chest.

"Rick...is that a bullet wound?"

Rick and Tyreese looked at each other then ripped open Sue's shirt to reveal where she'd been shot. Rick said nothing and quickly went back to Mason. How did they miss the hole in Mason's head?

"They've both been shot," said Carol.

"Murder-suicide?" guessed Glenn.

Rick shook his head. "Where's the gun?"

A brief search for the murder weapon ensued however nothing other than a knife on Mason was discovered.

"Hold up," said Tyreese. "Glenn, Maggie...you two have spent time back here. Was that hole always in the fence?"

"No," said Glenn. "We patched everything after Woodbury moved in. Someone must've cut it recently."

Michonne went to the fence and inspected where it'd been cut then realized there were walkers down on the other side. "Fence was cut and there are fresh walkers dead outside...we've been attacked."

"Beth, Judith!" cried Maggie suddenly. She ran to the fence with Glenn right after her. He was barely able to keep her from going through and pulled her to the ground where she dissolved into tears. Carol was beside herself and looked about in absolute disbelief at the prison she once thought was safe. Michonne and Tyreese stood helpless as each of their companions succumbed to grief. Rick was the only one caught in a vacant gaze that faded off into the rain. It wasn't happening; it couldn't be happening. Sue and Mason murdered in cold blood. Beth and Judith kidnapped right out from under their very noses. His own daughter—gone.

Daryl saw Rick's collapse coming before even Rick did. He pushed between Carol and Tyreese to get to the man and laid his hand on Rick's shoulder. The touch came just as Rick's knees gave out and he hit the ground with a groaning thud. Daryl went down with him and pulled Rick back into his chest.

"No, no…" sobbed Rick. "No, it can't…"

Rick sank farther into Daryl and was overwhelmed by a stream of tears. For all it was worth, Daryl tried to comfort Rick but there was little to say under the given circumstances.

"We're gonna get 'em back," Daryl promised in a whisper, "and we're gonna kill that bastard. He ain't gonna get away with this." He wrapped his arms around Rick and both shook with the man's cries.

"You're already talking like it's the Governor," Michonne said to Daryl. "What's his motive for all this?"

"Motive? Break apart the prison, draw us out, hold 'em for ransom…pick one," said Daryl. Rick moaned and drew his gun. He blindly pointed it towards Michonne who stepped out of his aim. "Rick…it's gonna be ok…" tried Daryl and he placed his hand over Rick's to lower the gun.

Rick ended up dropping the weapon on the ground and clenched his hands over his face. Everyone who was able to looked to Daryl for their next step. They knew Rick was just put out of commission for the foreseeable future.

"Daryl," said Glenn, "what do we do?"

Daryl looked at Glenn's girl and felt his heartbreak some. She was doing remarkably well for someone who had just had their own blood stolen away. Maggie was still a mess and so was Hershel who wouldn't be able to do much with one leg anyways. Carol was questionable as well.

"Karen, Glenn, Tyreese, Michonne…y'all are gonna go see if there's a trail or somethin'. Hell, we know they came through that hole…ya gotta go follow it; see where it leads," Daryl told them. He looked down at Rick and said "I'm gonna stay here."

"You're the best at tracking though and with all the rain—" Glenn started to say.

"For as many of 'em that it took to pull this off, the rain probably won't wash all their trail away…ya gotta find it."

"I'll stay," offered Glenn. "You should really go."

"I'll watch over Maggie and Hershel if that's what yer about. Besides, I gotta talk to Carl when he comes back."

"Carl's still gone?" asked Rick as he stirred in Daryl's arms.

"He'll be back soon. Don't ya worry 'bout him right now," Daryl said to Rick and then went back to addressing the others. "Look the longer ya stand there the colder the trails gonna get. Michonne, yer in charge with 'em. Ya find out where they are or get in trouble, ya come right back. Don't be doin' any hero shit."

Michonne nodded at Daryl and scurried through the fence. Karen and Tyreese went right after her but Glenn hung back to console Maggie one last time. "Get goin'," snapped Daryl. Maggie looked at him like he was the devil when Glenn pulled from her arms. Daryl hated seeing her like that but he had to send Glenn off.

As much as he wanted to be out on the Governor's trail, Daryl knew he'd be the only one able to control Rick. The man was cracked enough as it was and wouldn't be able to stand losing his daughter.

"It's gonna be ok," Daryl said again as the rain continued to pour down. "We're gonna get 'em back. This is the final time the Governor messes with us."

* * *

Carl kept his head about him as they were marched deeper into the woods. He tried to remember the way and took note of anything that could serve to mark the way back to the prison. One of the men had been referred to as Martinez and he guessed it'd been the man that'd he talked to and who was also in charge of the abduction. He seemed sensible enough and obviously hadn't hurt Beth or Judith so Carl placed him on his good side. There were a couple others though that gave he or Beth an unnecessary shove or cruel word and those worried him. He was dealing with a mixed company and that meant they were unpredictable.

Ahead of Carl, he spotted a clearing they were heading to. Once they were closer he realized it wasn't a clearing and that'd they come to a road. Three tucks were parked on it with a man stationed near each vehicle.

"Alright, blindfold them," said the man Carl had guessed was Martinez. Within a second, another man came to Carl with a pillow case and tossed it over Carl's head. He knew the same was being down to Beth and hoped it wasn't going to scare her more than she already was. He heard her whimper and figured the man in charge of her wasn't being as nice about it as he should. Two hands then seized Carl by the shoulders and started to push him forward. He heard a car door open and was then roughly picked up and set in the cab of one of the trucks. More sobbing accompanied him and he figured Beth had been placed next to him for their journey.

"No…they ride with me," said Martinez and to Carl it sounded like keys were being exchanged. "Shump, take the baby and get up front."

Two more doors opened and then Carl heard Judith's crying as the men got in the truck with them.

"Here…you should hold her…I don't know much about babies," said Shumpert. He leaned over the front seat and placed Judith in Beth's arms.

"Thank you," Beth squeaked out between sobs. To her, having Judith back would be a small sense of comfort.

The truck was started a moment later and Carl felt them begin to roll. At first he paid attention to how fast he thought they were going and the turns they made but it was hard to keep track of it all. Then it felt like they were driving in circles and he knew Martinez was intentionally trying to disorient he and Beth. So much for finding their way back.

The truck made three final turns: a left, an second left, and then a right and stopped. He engine turned off and the two front doors were opened. "Get out," ordered Martinez when he opened Carl's door and Shumpert was at Beth's.

Carl slid off the seat and landed as gracefully as possible with his hands tied. He hoped Beth had gotten more assistance than he had received. Martinez then took him by the shoulder and pushed him forward. Carl heard the growling from walkers and withdrew into Martinez's hand. He couldn't tell where the sound was coming from but figured the walkers were close by.

"They aren't going to get you," reassured Martinez and gave Carl another light shove. Carl couldn't see it but he'd just been led over a walker-mote that surrounded the Governor's new camp. The ditch went around the camp and was deep enough to hold the walkers without fear of them climbing back out somehow. The only way across were two bridges made of wood that could be pulled back to isolate the camp completely.

"Alright, watch your step. There's three of them," said Martinez. Carl's foot hit something and he realized he was being guided towards a building. He raised his left foot until he found the step and then his right. At the top, he stumbled forward and crashed into the side of a wooded building.

"Sorry about that…Hey, make sure the girl doesn't trip," he said to Shumpert. "The rest of you can wait outside."

A door was opened and Carl and Beth were pushed inside. They were each guided to a chair and made to sit down. Carl heard a knife open and then his hands were no longer bound. He rubbed at his wrists as he bonds were broken and reached his hand over to where he guessed Beth was sitting. He felt her leg and then her hand found his. He gave her hand a generous squeeze to reassure her.

To the kids' left, a door opened and a man walked into the room. He drew up a chair for himself and sat in front of the pair. "Come now Caesar, they're kids—take those blindfolds off." The pillow cases over Carl and Beth's heads were removed and both recoiled at the sudden burst of light hitting their eyes. "That's better. Now, who do we have here?"

Carl opened his eyes and saw for the first time the man everyone called the Governor. It was odd, he thought, for he always imagined the man being terrible and frightening but he was just a regular as anyone. He had an eye patch which was startling to see at first, but he certainly didn't seem like the evil and malicious man they all feared. For the way they worried about him, Carl almost expected the man to have fangs and blood dripping out of his eyes.

"So you're Carl," stated the Governor as he leaned back in his chair, "and the baby is your sister Judith. But what is your name miss?"

"Beth," said Carl.

The Governor looked thoughtful as if he was pulling up a distant memory.

"Beth…Beth…yes, you're Maggie's little sister. Andrea spoke of you; she said your father is a veterinarian that saved several of your people's lives."

Beth bit her lip and nodded.

"Well, welcome Beth. Your presence is a little _unanticipated_…" Martinez shifted as the Governor looked over at him, "but nothing bad will happen to you while you're here."

"What do you want from us?" she asked in a small and quivering voice.

"Nothing…nothing at all. You being here is all I want. None of my men hurt you, did they?"

"No they didn't," answered Carl.

The Governor smiled which relaxed Shumpert and Martinez.

"That's good. Now, I don't think it's necessary for you to know why—"

"I want to join you," interrupted Carl.

The Governor closed his mouth and raised his eyebrows. "You what?"

"I want to join you," repeated Carl. "I hate that prison. I hate everyone there. I hate my dad. He's a terrible leader. I want to join you."

"He said the same thing out in the woods…he even showed himself and allowed us to capture him," explained Martinez.

The Governor remained confused and looked as though he couldn't put together what he was being told. Beth was giving him very little reaction other than being scared to go off of. He took in Carl once more and then realized the boy had a swelling nose and blood down his shirt.

"How did you hurt your nose?" he asked.

"Daryl Dixon punched me," said Carl evenly.

"_What?_" gasped Beth. "He did?"

"Is that so?" asked the Governor and Carl nodded. "Daryl Dixon. Well, we're going to have to do something about that. I think there might be a chance for you to get back at him, if that's what you'd like and if you're serious about coming to the correct side of the war."

"I'm serious. I want to join you. I'll do whatever it takes to prove myself," said Carl sternly.

"I guarantee you'll have that opportunity," the Governor said as he extended his and Carl shook it. "Welcome."


	36. Judge and Jury

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, gore, and sexual situations.

I LOVE THIS CHAPTER! Just saying...

* * *

The prison's only hope in finding the kids rested with Michonne and the small search party she was leading. Daryl was obviously the ideal candidate to track them down but he was back with Rick making sure the man didn't completely lose it. There had to be some lead the could follow though. The attackers had been sloppy and left two dead and a hole in the fence. It was a start. It wasn't much of one, but it was better than nothing. Perhaps they also got lazy and didn't cover all their tracks but even then the rain might've washed them out. If that was the case, Michonne still maintained the idea that Carl and Judith could be recovered and Carl would pop up at the prison.

Michonne, Glenn, Tyreese, and Karen walked beyond the prison. They still had a small bit of luck in that it appeared like a trail led away from the fence and into the woods. Not far along the trail, Michonne spotted a few small tree branches that looked as if they had been snapped and twisted out of the way. She looked down to the dirt floor but it had been reduced to a muddy mess.

"They came through here," she said to those behind her. "These trees are too thick; it's likely they used this trail the whole way."

The four walked farther along while Michonne kept both eyes open for anything that seemed out of place. The rain was letting up, which was a decent blessing, and hopefully they'd be able to follow any footprints that'd been left in the mud. Michonne continued on then came to an abrupt halt.

"What is it?" asked Glenn in a low, quick whisper.

Michonne was looking down at something on the ground and she bent over to pick it up.

"This is Carl's hat," she said and showed the item to the other three. The disbelief at the find was evident across the faces of Tyreese, Glenn, and Karen.

"But…but he was off with Daryl," said Glenn, scratching the back of his head. "This doesn't make any sense."

"Yes it does," sighed Michonne. "Rick told Hershel and I that Daryl said he and Carl had an argument and that they 'got into it.' Daryl's words not Rick's."

"Are you saying _Daryl_ handed Carl over to the Governor?" asked Tyreese. "That he's been working as a double agent?"

"After what the Governor did to Merle? Daryl wants the Governor dead more than any of us. But I think that 'argument' they had was more than that," said Michonne. "I don't think Daryl gave Rick the entire truth of what happened when they went hunting."

"Ok, ok," began Karen. "Daryl and Carl had some sort of fight and maybe Carl took off. He ran over here and was caught by the Governor's men. That's pretty good timing. Are you sure Daryl didn't know the Governor was going to attack and got Carl over here?"

"Daryl would never do that. He wouldn't let Beth and Judith be kidnapped and then bring Carl over as well. He's not a traitor and he isn't his brother," said Glenn as he came to Daryl's defense. "He'd die before he'd let anything happen to the kids."

"Well something happened with Carl," said Karen. "The boy never takes his hat off and yet here it is. How do you explain that?"

Tyreese and Glenn looked to one another as if they could get the answer from the other while Michonne broke from the three and started to conduct a secondary search of the area. Something went down in the area if Carl had been separated from his precious hat.

"Look around," she told her companions, "there has to be something else."

Karen rolled her eyes feeling the answer to everything could be found back with Daryl. Glenn and Tyreese were more willing and left the path to search the forest nearby. It was hard to know what they were supposed to be looking for. The only footprints were their own. It wasn't likely they'd find another article of clothing. If shots were fired then maybe there'd be some bullet casings. Or the gun that Glenn's hand found on a blind search around the base of a tree.

At first he froze when his hand came into contact with the metal but he realized what it was. He pulled it away from the tree it'd been stashed by and inspected it without drawing the attention of his group.

"You three might want to duck when we get back to the prison…shit is going to hit the fan," he said, revealing the gun to the others.

Three mouths fell open at once and eyes were widened at the newest discovery. Michonne snatched the gun from Glenn and turned it over in her hands unable to believe what she was holding. She checked the chamber and the magazine and discovered it was still fully loaded.

"Carl didn't put up a fight," she surmised. "He was either subdued and brought here, or he allowed himself to be captured."

"Maybe he saw that they had Beth and Judith and…"

Glenn stopped when he noticed the dark way the other three were looking at him.

"There is no way a kid is going to walk up to a group of heavily armed men, who have kidnapped his sister and another girl, and volunteer himself to go with them," said Tyreese.

"Daryl is involved in this. We're going back," ordered Karen who turned and started towards the prison.

"We can't," said Glenn as he caught up to her. When Karen refused to stop he grabbed her arm and twisted her around. "Rick _will_ kill Daryl if he thinks he's responsible for bringing the Governor's men here. There won't be a jury or a trial, only a bullet from Rick's gun."

"And what evidence is there to say that Daryl _is_ innocent?" she spat, brushing Glenn's hand off her. "I don't see very much. He also sent us out here when it should be him. He's the tracker and can pick up signs we'd miss. He wanted us to come so we wouldn't be able to follow the trail."

"We can't stay out here," said Tyreese regrettably. "We have to tell them what we found. I think everyone needs to be included in where we go from here."

"Michonne…_please_," pleaded Glenn. "It's going to be very bad with Rick."

"Daryl made his bed and now he has to sleep in it," said Karen before Michonne could answer. "Two of those kids are Rick's. He's the leader here and as it stands, Daryl is a traitor to us all. If Rick doesn't do something about Daryl then someone has to. He could bring the Governor down on us tomorrow if he wants to."

"Daryl is going to have an explanation," promised Michonne, "and we'll make sure things don't get out of hand with Rick."

* * *

At the Governor's camp, Martinez brought Carl, Beth, and Judith to a holding room that had been specially prepared ahead of time. It was homier than the prison cells they had been living in but was still foreboding. They had windows but they were barred and were told a guard would be outside of their door at all times. There was a bed with a flimsy mattress and next to it, a makeshift crib for Judith.

Beth went to the crib, inspected it briefly, and deemed it fit for the baby. She placed the sleeping girl down and checked for bottles or formula. If they had gone through the trouble of bringing in a crib, the Governor surely would have stocked formula for her. Sure enough, Beth found formula and water for mixing along with diapers and a few toys. She wasn't going to be lured into a false sense of security with everything she'd heard about the Governor, but she honestly thought there was a chance that nothing bad was going to happen to them. Or at least with her and Judith, Carl was a wildcard.

Beth watched him fearfully as she sat on the corner of the bed. He'd said very little directly to her since their ordeal began. At first she was glad that he revealed himself in the forest and thought he'd make a run back to the prison and help would be on its way. Except he did the opposite and offered to join the Governor.

"Don't look at me like that," said Carl from his stance near the door.

"You can't be serious about joining the Governor? Look at all he's done," cried Beth.

"Yeah well I hope he does more," said Carl loudly, "and I hope he lets me help him. I still want to get back at Daryl."

Carl peeked at the door behind him and then went to sit with Beth on the bed. Her eyes were wide with fear and he felt bad for being the cause of it.

"You have to trust me on this. He's obviously planning something bad. If I can make him think I'm on his side, then maybe I can stop it or at least get back to the prison and warn them," he whispered. "I sorta deserved what I got from Daryl and my Dad and I…the Governor will make him suffer and I don't want that. Judith can't grow up not knowing both her parents."

"What if he finds out?" asked Beth. "He'll kill you."

"I have to try otherwise he might kill everyone back at the prison. Do you want to see Maggie and your Dad again?" Beth began to sob at the mention of her family and Carl pulled her into a gentle hug. "It's going to be ok. I promise."

Beth wiped her eyes and nose just as the door was opened and Martinez walked in carrying an extra pillow and blanket. He closed the door behind him and tossed them on the floor by the bed.

"Figured that'd make you more comfortable," he said to Carl. Carl didn't acknowledge and set his face into a stony stare. "You two doing alright?"

Both Carl and Beth nodded.

"Find everything for the baby?"

Another two nods.

"Alright. Carl, why don't I take a look at your nose? Its gotta be bugging you some," said Martinez. He went to the pile of baby things and dug through them until he found a rag and opened a bottle of water. He wetted the rag and then approached Carl was still as Martinez dabbed at his bloody nose but winced when he touched the more tender parts. "Sorry," murmured Martinez. "I'm gonna have to set it if you want it to heal right. It's gonna—"

"_Damn it!_" yelled Carl. Martinez pushed Carl's nose back into place before he had finished issuing his warning. "Tell me before you do it next time!"

Martinez chuckled. "No trust me; that hurts worse. Keep that rag on it though. It's gonna bleed for a bit." He pressed the cloth over Carl's nose to stop the slow trickle of blood out of both nostrils.

"What are you going to do?" asked Beth suddenly.

"Do?" echoed Martinez then paused thoughtfully. "That isn't up to me to decide. Staying calm and doing as the Governor says is the best thing for you. You really weren't supposed to be here Beth so I don't know how that changes things, if I'm going to be honest."

"I want to help out," said Carl. "When am I going to get the chance?"

"You'll get the chance in the next day or so. Is there anything you can tell me about the prison's defenses that we should know about?"

"There's always someone in the guard tower," answered Carl without delay. "The people from Woodbury live in cell block D while everyone else is in C block."

Martinez smile at the information. "That's good to know and it might come in handy," he said.

"Please, please don't hurt my sister or my daddy," said Beth.

"I'm sorry, I can't promise that," said Martinez as he turned to leave. "I wish I could but I can't.

"Then why do you stay with him? You're not like him," said Beth weakly.

Martinez paused at the door and looked back over his shoulder at the kids.

"It's about survival. It always has been and always will be. Even before all this—it was why nations went to war. The world hasn't changed as much as we think," he said and opened the door. "Food will be sent in later. Try to get some rest."

* * *

Daryl wanted to be out there for he was certain they were going to miss something critical. Michonne had a good eye but it was things like the way a blade of grass was bent or a rock turned out of place that he worried would be overlooked: anything to clue them in on the Governor's trail. As it stood though, Rick needed Daryl more. He'd been reduced to a weakened mass that was only being kept off the muddy ground by Daryl's arms.

They'd been down the same road with Lori's death, which was what made Daryl the most anxious. First it was denial and shock but then came the cloudy, uncontrollable rage. Rick _was_ going to lose it; he was, and there were no walkers for him to take it out on. The bodies of Mason and Sue were within range, and Daryl certainly wouldn't stop Rick if he decided to hack away at the old man. That was the one small silver lining, if one could be found: Mason was no longer around.

Hershel, Maggie, and Carol had remained with Daryl and Rick. The Greenes clung to each other and cried endlessly while Carol's silent heaving tugged at Daryl's heart. It had all really happened: they'd been attacked. Two of their people were dead and another two were missing. All hell was going to break loose once the rest from Woodbury found out what happened. Rick already had enough on his plate from his own son pulling a gun on him to the kidnapping of his daughter. Throw in the chaos from Woodbury that was going to erupt and it spelled disaster.

"C'mon Rick, ya gotta help me out here," said Daryl. "I know this is rough, but I need ya with me. Ya gotta keep it together for yer kids. Ya gotta be strong for Carl when he comes back."

Daryl felt Rick move for the first time. He straightened himself and Daryl let him go for it seemed like he could sit up on his own.

"We're gonna get 'em back. Hershel, Maggie—we'll get Beth back. She's gonna be ok. She's a tough girl," said Daryl.

"Ransom," choked Rick at once.

"Huh?" asked Daryl.

"Ransom," repeated Rick brokenly. He swallowed and turned to Daryl. "He'll ask for ransom from the girls. He wants something."

Daryl nodded to Rick's reasoning.

"So we sit tight and don't do nothin' stupid. Ya say he'll come to us with what he wants? Then we'll wait here."

"And what if he doesn't?" asked Maggie. "We have to go after him!"

"We can't do nothin' 'till Michonne gets back. For all we know he coulda left his men waitin' for us in the woods and we'd walk right into an ambush. This is his game and he's gotta make the next move," said Daryl.

"But that's my Beth—" began Hershel.

"I know and we're gonna get her back," said Daryl. "We gotta keep it together."

"Daryl's right," said Rick with a voice of reason. "The Governor wants something…I don't think he's going to hurt them…not yet."

"He needs to go after them…he's the only one that can find them," appealed Carol.

"I need to stay here: Michonne will pick up the trail," said Daryl. "We need to go back inside. Put Woodbury on lockdown. Tell 'em no one goes outside unless they gotta; we'll keep armed guards at every entrance."

"Yeah—ok," said Rick.

Daryl was the first to stand and extended a hand down to Rick. He helped the man up and gave him a reassuring squeeze on his shoulder. Carol and Maggie offered assistance to Hershel who took his time regaining his footing. They had only started to walk back to the cellblock when they heard someone crashing through the trees behind them. Daryl loaded and raised his crossbow faster than he'd ever done before. Maggie and Carol each brought out a gun and Rick had his drawn and pointed towards the forest. Just when the four were thinking of firing, Glenn, Michonne, Tyreese, and Karen came into view and hurled themselves through the fence.

"What'd you find?" asked Carol quickly.

There was a moment of hesitation amongst the search party and no one said or did anything.

"Well?" demanded Rick irritably. "Did you find anything?"

"Um, yes…" said Glenn in a small, strained voice, "we found these on the trail…"

From the back of his pants, Glenn produced Carl's gun and Michonne stepped forward with his hat.

Rick shook his head in disbelief and rubbed his eyes: He wasn't seeing it. After staring at them and finally deciding they were real, he took a few shaky steps and reached out for the hat and then the gun.

"Daryl?" he asked. "What the hell happened to my kid?"

Daryl was then beside him; his face contorted into infinite bewilderment. He tried to take the gun from Rick to identify it for himself as Carl's but Rick pulled back.

"You were the last one with him," said Karen, "what happened?"

Daryl was still at a loss for words and looked to those around him. They weren't giving him anything to go off of and he suddenly felt strangely outnumbered and surrounded.

"I—I don't…this don't make any sense," he managed to say. Rick's face alone implored a better explanation but Daryl didn't have one to give. "He and I didn't come back this way."

"So what? There happens to be another kid running around with the exact same hat and gun as Carl?" asked Karen.

"I ain't stupid—I know those are Carl's!" barked Daryl.

"Daryl," tried Glenn in a less invasive manner, "we found the hat just off the trail and the gun was set down behind a tree…"

Before Glenn had finished, Rick's hands swept over the gun and checked the chamber and magazine.

"Full," said Michonne, "Carl never used a shot."

"What? He didn't try to fight back?" asked Maggie.

"Probably saw he was outnumbered and wasn't gonna risk it," said Daryl.

"Or," said Karen with a raised eyebrow, "he was disarmed before hand and led there."

"By who?" scoffed Carol. "We've all been here. Mason and Sue are dead so it wasn't either of them."

There was a second moment of silence as each person searched for a possible cause. Rick too was working things over in his head. First Beth and Judith were stolen right out from under him and now Carl. But whereas the girls looked to be taken forcefully, Carl's disappearance appeared to be less aggressive. He decided to look at things from the end back to the beginning. Carl had been taken. He had been taken from the woods. He had been with Daryl in the woods. Rick stopped that particular train of thought. Daryl had returned to the prison without Carl, insisting that Carl still had his gun on him, and said they'd gotten into it. It was a vague an explanation as he'd ever heard.

"Daryl, you want to fill me in on what _really_ happened out in the woods?" asked Rick.

Daryl was caught rather off guard and suddenly looked down at his feet.

"I told ya what happened…"

"Yeah and I think you left a few things out…some very important things," said Rick in an unusually accusatory tone.

"I, I think I'm missing something," faltered Carol.

"You think _you're_ missing something?" asked Rick with awful sarcasm. "I'm missing my two kids. Now Daryl, I'm going to ask you again: what the hell happened in the woods?"

"I don't really remember…"

"You wanna try that again before you really piss me off?" snapped Rick causing Daryl to back away.

"We got into a fight," said Daryl honestly before Rick's anger was given a chance to deepen. "I know I said I was gonna take care of him but he was actin' like a piece of shit…we started to fight and I—"

"You what?" demanded Rick, inching closer to Daryl.

"I hit him," Daryl finished in a dry, cracked voice. "Didn't mean to do it, just slipped out there. I feel like shit…think I might've broken his nose. He wouldn't let me see it though and he took off runnin'. I followed him but he got away…"

Daryl's words rolled right over Rick like water off a duck's back.

"Well it seems like Mr. Forgetful remembers," weighed Rick. "You hit my son—you punched my son and broke his nose."

"Ya don't—" began Daryl but Rick shook his head.

"I don't care if he had a gun to your head. You were supposed to take him out to cool him off and now he's been kidnapped by the Governor after you hit him and made him run away. You want to tell me that wasn't your fault? And now that I'm thinking about it…why was he taken without a fight? Michonne, Glenn, did you find any sign of a struggle?"

"No," answered Glenn, "but—"

"So why would Carl abandon his gun? Why wouldn't he fire a shot? Say he spotted the Governor's men as they were leaving, why wouldn't he come back here and tell us?"

"I ain't lying when I said I hit him and he took off!" yelled Daryl, thrusting his split knuckles in Rick's face. Rick snatched Daryl's right hand and examined it: Two of his knuckles showed signs of bleeding and there was slight swelling in the area. "Ya damn lost it—_again_—if ya think I'd bring the Governor here!"

"_Oh Daryl_," moaned Carol while Rick threw down Daryl's hand in disgust.

"Look, we can stand 'round here talkin' bullshit or we can go out after 'em…they can't be that far," said Daryl.

"How would you know they aren't that far?" asked Michonne. "We found Carl's stuff about a hundred yards from here but we didn't follow the trail any farther."

Daryl paced uneasily and ran his hands through his hair. He was about to get it and he knew it.

"I never said this before…and Carl was with me…but we found some animal traps out huntin' that day Carl got hurt. Couple miles—" everyone turned to look in the direction Daryl was pointing, "that way. They'd been set recently and I figured there was someone else in the area. Don't know how close their camp is and we didn't check it out: It's probably the Governor now that we've been attacked."

Rick practically choked on Daryl's confession. There was no denying he'd been withholding valuable information. If they had a reasonable lead on the Governor's presence, they could have launched their own attack and taken him out for good.

"You didn't _think_ that was something I'd like to know?" Rick's voice deepened as he spoke. "You didn't _think_ that maybe you should share the fact that we've been living next door to the man that's been trying to kill us?"

"No…I _knew_ ya'd wanna go runnin' off after him and that'd get more of us killed," snipped Daryl. "Ya ain't always made the best decisions. Ya don't get it."

Rick smiled to himself and laughed at something but no one else knew what.

"You don't tell us the Governor is in our woods, you hit my son and that makes him run away, you don't tell me that either and now he's gone…Yeah Daryl; I'm starting to get it."

"Oh I forgot that ya have more experience with being stupid that I do," spat Daryl, his eyes narrowing as he closed in on Rick.

Rick cocked his head and a small, slightly amused smile crept across his lips.

"Insulting your leader; that's an interesting approach. What else you got? Because I'm really looking forward to hearing it."

"Look, I don't wanna get into a fight with ya," Daryl lowered his voice, "I'm tired of fightin' with ya man."

"Then stop talking," Rick threw back.

Daryl's jaw clenched and he ground his teeth together. He tried to remind himself that Rick had just lost both his kids so he wasn't thinking clearly. He'd do anything to get Rick to see the situation like he should but throwing a punch was out of the picture. Unfortunately, thought Daryl, that was where they were headed.

"Let me put it to you like this," Rick said first addressing Daryl and then the others, "we've been trying to make something of the world we live in. We've established ourselves here and done a fine job at making the prison into a home. There's food to eat, water to drink, and we've been reasonably safe until now. Things aren't going to be normal, not for a while, but it's time we start taking things from our old days."

"What are you thinking Rick?" asked Hershel. He hobbled forward until Tyreese held out his arm to stop him.

Rick paced for a moment while he looked down at his feet then stopped back near the group.

"I'm thinking Daryl didn't tell us about the animal traps and that the Governor was back—that's reckless endangerment. He hit Carl—that's child abuse. Then because of that, Carl ran off and got caught by the Governor and that's child endangerment…Those three things would get him locked away for about ten years inside a prison like this. Anyone want to argue with that?"

"You can't be serious?" asked a shocked Glenn. "_No_."

"Oh no: I am," Rick nodded and then looked at Daryl. "Daryl, you're under arrest."

* * *

**A/N:** _Bam!_ Top that AMC! But seriously, I hope season 4 is good. Please don't hurt me for putting the bromance on ice for a little while longer. Daryl did make some mistakes so it isn't all Rick's fault...I want to thank everyone for their continued support and I'm sorry this update was a little delayed; I wanted to do a good job with it. Another small tid-bit...I'm thinking of upping the rating to M (not for sex) within the next 2-3 chapters just to be on the safe side. So...warning.


	37. The New Inmate

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore.

Things I have learned today that are also relevant to this chapter: Sometimes it is in your best interest to take the high road, even when you really, REALLY don't want to.

* * *

Two words flashed in Daryl's mind when Rick declared that he was under arrest: Merle and Atlanta. If Rick got those handcuffs on him, Daryl knew he was screwed. Rick would chain him up somewhere and leave him just like he'd done with Merle. He'd either lock him to the fence where he'd be an example to those who got out of line or deep within the prison where he'd rot away.

Rick was looking at him like he was no good for the group and they'd all be better off without him, and there was a small part of Daryl that agreed with that. Rick had fair reason to be angry with him. If it hadn't been for Daryl's fist, Carl never would have run off and gotten himself kidnapped by the Governor. He was an adult and he should have demonstrated better restraint than to resort to hitting a kid. Just because Carl started the fight, didn't mean Daryl had to participate in it.

To frustrate Daryl even farther, they had to waste all their time arguing over what to do with him. He hated being the center of attention, no matter the circumstance. They should be out on the trail trying to get a read on where the Governor was but no: They were once again too busy chasing their own tails. It was probably what the Governor wanted all along—to throw the prison into chaos. They fell right into his sick trap. There was no telling what he was doing to the kids. Carl, if he was still alive, was probably being tortured or beaten. The likelihood they had any formula on hand to feed her meant she was sentence to a slow death. Then there was Beth. She was a strong girl, but she was a girl. Daryl's face visibly soured at the thought of what the Governor or his men might do to her.

Daryl saw two options open up in front of him. The first was to take the Merle route: protest his impending arrest, waste even more time, and force a fight with Rick and any others that sided with him. Or he could go along with it, and allow the others to focus on getting the kids back. They'd be without his skills at tracking, but Glenn and Michonne had been able to bring back Carl's hat and gun so they were more capable than he initially gave them credit for.

Daryl's eyes scanned the friends gathered around him. He couldn't blame them for not rushing to his defense. They were all in uncharted territory, stress was high, and more than one life was at stake.

"Did you hear what I said?" asked Rick.

Daryl gave no indication that he heard Rick and remained motionless and quite. He was still thinking about what he was going to do. If he was going to bolt, his opportunity for escape was closing quickly.

"Rick, it had to of been an accident," said Glenn. "If we lock Daryl up, we lose the person most likely to track down the kids. You have to consider that."

"I have and my opinion on the matter hasn't changed any," said Rick. "There's too much for me to overlook. He didn't tell us about the traps. He hit Carl and didn't immediately own up to it. Because of that, my son is now with the Governor."

"Rick, we're going about this wrong," implored Glenn. "What happened to innocent until proven guilty?"

"_My_ son was kidnapped due to something Daryl did. Do you think I can let that go or excuse it? I trust you'll understand once you have kids."

Glenn's argument was quickly deflated. As much as it pained him to sit idly by, Rick was a father scorned and in no mood to be crossed.

Once Glenn's small protest had been abated, Rick turned his attention back to Daryl. He had expected Daryl to fly off the handle like his brother had done and Rick found it slightly off-putting that Daryl was taking it so well. He probably thought it was all a joke.

"Put your crossbow down," said Rick to emphasize his point.

Again, Daryl didn't react and Rick took a step towards him.

"Daryl, you've got five seconds to put your crossbow down," Rick began to threaten, "because neither of us is going to want the alternative. You know I don't want to go there. So that's one…"

Daryl was still thinking over his next move and held tight to his bow. If he turned and ran Rick was going to be on him like shit on your best church shoes.

"_Two…three…_"

Was he really going to fight Rick? With so many around, it was hard to tell who was going to take whose side. It'd escalate right into a brawl and the Governor would be the ultimate winner.

"_Four…I don't want to count to five Daryl._"

Daryl remembered the last time Rick counted to five it ended with the death of the guy who had ambushed them back in the department store. He was serious about his countdowns.

Rick didn't want to do it, he honestly never wanted to entertain the idea of forcibly arresting someone so close to him, but Daryl was giving him no other choice. There was a collective gasp of surprise as Rick nearly threw himself at Daryl who backed away in time to avoid being tackled.

"I see you want to do this the hard way," said Rick.

"Ya never counted to five," said Daryl. Rick's anger went up another notch at Daryl's attempt at sarcasm. Daryl instantly regretted his smart tongue and cursed that small bit of Merle he had in him. To make up for his latest mistake, Daryl dropped the crossbow to the ground where the arrow was jarred free and it was rendered useless. Rick kicked the bow farther to the side with his boot and then arrow as well.

"Put your hands on your head and turn around," ordered Rick.

Daryl sighed with hesitation: It really was happening. He slowly raised his hands to the top of his head and then turned so that his back was to Rick. He immediately felt Rick rush into him and force him against the fence. His face hit the chain link and he turned his head sideways as the metal dug into him. Rick pulled Daryl's pistol away; the clip falling to the ground and the gun itself stuffed into Rick's pants. Rick's hands were then all over him searching for any more weapons. Daryl ignored their intrusive nature until they found what was once Merle's knife.

"I'm keepin' that," Daryl said so that only Rick could hear. "Ain't gonna use it."

"No you aren't," said Rick. He went to remove the knife when Daryl spun and was suddenly in his face.

"That was my brother's and I'm keepin' it," Daryl repeated. "Not gonna use it but I want it on me."

"There's no reason for you to have it…not where you're going," said Rick.

"Then I ain't goin' there."

Daryl gave Rick a decent push and stepped to the side. He hadn't been completely unarmed in a long time and it was not a welcomed feeling. Rick was probably just going to take him back to his cell and lock him in there which was walker free, but Daryl didn't like it. There was also the possibility that the Governor could attack again and he wanted something, even if it was just a knife, to be able to defend himself. Plus it was Merle's.

Rick shook his head and Daryl saw him reach for the handcuffs he kept on his belt. Daryl's fight of flight reflex kicked in and he chose flight. He broke into a run and Rick lunged after him and caught the bottom of Daryl's vest. Daryl was pulled back just enough so that Rick was able to grab Daryl's arm and slammed into him. The collision threw both men off their feet and sent Daryl to the ground with Rick on top of him. Daryl tried to rise up and throw Rick off but the sheriff pushed all his weight into him.

"NO! Stay back!" he heard Rick yell to someone out of sight. Daryl guessed Glenn or Carol, maybe Michonne was coming to help him, but whoever it was remained where they were and he was on his own.

Daryl twisted and turned under Rick and felt he was making some progress until two heavy sets of hand clamped down on his legs. He didn't know who else was helping restrain him and he attempted to get a glimpse of the person so he'd know whose ass to kick later, but Rick blocked his view.

"Son of a—" Daryl started to say and then was cut off when Rick's hand pushed his head down harder into the cement ground. He felt the man lean into him and press his elbow between his shoulder blades. Daryl had a good idea of what was going to come next and he wrested to get his arms under him. Rick's free hand snaked around Daryl's left bicep and tried to wrench it up. Both men winced at the pain the struggled caused them and Rick couldn't get Daryl's arm free.

"If you want to add resisting arrest then keep fighting," growled Rick.

"Ya best let me go," said Daryl, trying to buck both Rick and Tyreese off him.

"I can't do that," said Rick. "Now quit. I'm sure you've been in this situation before and know how it works. You probably had a pretty good record before the world ended."

Daryl's heart pounded for reasons other than those due to the altercation. No he'd never been arrested before. He'd come close to it after a few drunken bar fights but that was it. No one ever had to bail him out of jail. He didn't have court dates or probation hearings. He never had a substance abuse or anger management class. That was his brother. He'd been there when Merle got arrested on more than one occasion and it was like the police were trying to handcuff a pissed off bear.

"I ain't Merle," Daryl whispered and allowed his body to relax. He closed his eyes and let Rick do what he wanted.

Rick jerked Daryl's left arm up and onto his back. Even though he was no longer resisting, Rick held him firmly as he closed the handcuffs around Daryl's wrist. He pulled on Daryl's other arm and with several adjusting clicks from the cuffs, had him completely restrained. Rick looked down on his prisoner and then backed off him. He and Tyreese each took one of Daryl's arms and lifted him to his feet. Daryl opened his eyes and looked down. It was his first time being arrested and he was embarrassed by it. All eyes were on him and he hated it. He hated having his freedom ripped away. It was his choice though and the only way to get Rick focused on finding the kids.

"Walk," commanded Rick.

Daryl sighed but his feet started to move sluggishly.

"Faster."

"Wanna tell me where I'm goin'?" asked Daryl, his pace remaining unhurried.

"Back to C block," said Rick. "Preferably before it gets dark."

Rick gave Daryl a prod in the back to get him moving at a more acceptable rate. Turning briefly around, Daryl saw Glenn pick up his crossbow and the others of the group following behind.

Rick guided Daryl back to C block aware of the others trailing them. He really didn't want to arrest Daryl. He didn't want to be the bad guy. But Daryl had done wrong and he needed to serve as an example. They had no tolerance for those that put the group in danger. If he had seen that earlier with Mason…Rick wasn't going to go there. He couldn't live in the past. What he _was_ going to do was lock Daryl in a cell. He was actually afraid of what he might do to Daryl if he was allowed to run free. Arresting him was the safest thing for both of them.

Rick opened the door to the cell block and thrust Daryl through it. Daryl turned and made to go up the stairs and into his cell but Rick pulled him back.

"No, not there," he said and pushed him to the door on the far side of the room.

"Rick, where are you taking him?" asked Carol.

Rick didn't answer and opened the next door for Daryl to go through. They turned down the corridor and it dawned with Daryl as to where he was going. He stopped in the middle of the hall and Rick bumped into him.

"Just a little father Daryl…"

"No," said Daryl. "I ain't gonna go rot in the tombs."

"Never said anything about rotting. It's just until I figure out what to do with you. Let's not make this into a bigger deal than it needs to be."

Daryl glared back at Rick but accepted his fate. Rick pushed him on until they were at the door of one of the solitary confinement cells. He opened the door and Daryl was allowed his first glimpse inside his new cell. It was dark, dingy, and smelled like death. There was no bed—not much of anything really. It had four walls, a deeply stained toilet, and a slit in the door to pass food through. Without needing to be told so, Daryl stepped inside.

"Gonna take these off?" he asked Rick and raised his hands that were still cuffed.

"You said you wanted your knife—and you can keep it—so the cuff s stay on," said Rick. "Food will be sent in later."

Rick slammed the door behind Daryl and locked it. He sighed and turned to the audience gathered behind him.

"He and I both need this. So I don't care if the prison is burning down, no one is to let him out until I say so."

Most the group gaped back at Rick but there was little to be done about it short of shooting the man and taking the keys from him. It sill weighed heavy on their hearts that one of their own, and Daryl at that, had to be locked away.

Night fell over the prison and with it a grim sense of despair. Daryl tried to make himself comfortable in the cell but had no luck. He was miserable, physically and mentally. There was no light and he was bathed in constant darkness whether his eyes were open or not. It was too quiet too. He'd take the crying of Judith or the squabbling from Woodbury over the desolation of his cell. He could hear everything from his heartbeat to the creaking of the prison. The emptiness of the cell about drove him out of his mind. There was nothing to distract him, other than his knife. But it was essentially useless as he couldn't draw it from its sheath. Rick had left him handcuffed and soon his arms were strained from it. He eventually laid down on his stomach to give himself a break. At some point, food and water were passed through the door but he didn't care. Daryl hardly noticed and slipped into sleep.

* * *

Thank you for all the lovely reviews. This was a little shorter but if it wasn't, it'd be so long and crazy you wouldn't believe it. Hint. Hint.


	38. Prison Break

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, gore, and some ouchies.

* * *

The Governor drummed his fingers impatiently against a windowsill as he looked out. It was passed sunset and therefore passed the time he told his men to return. He'd left a group scattered around the prison that were to suppose to watch its movements and report back. He assumed Rick would immediately organize a search party and pick up the trail. If they came out running with guns blazing, he wanted to have some warning before a fight. He had gathered more men, but his camp was not entirely secure and Rick's people had proven to be good shots: he could use them as snipers and slowly starve them out if he wanted to. To counter that, the Governor had stationed several additional scouts in the woods nearby with radios to call in anything suspicious. So far, the radios were silent and his men were late which was irritating and it prompted him to send Martinez back to the prison lookouts.

He continued with his vigilance at the window with a gun on his lap, when a set of headlights broke through the darkness: Martinez had returned. The truck stopped and Martinez got out and walked towards the Governor's cabin.

"Well?" asked the Governor, meeting Martinez at the door.

"Nothing. They haven't come out," said Martinez. "They've been watching the prison all afternoon and no one has budged."

The Governor stared at the man, his head tilted slightly.

"They haven't done _anything_?"

"No. Apparently they assembled outside for a while and Rick arrested one of his people—handcuffed him and took him inside. I guess they blamed him; no one was able to tell who it was. When it got dark, they put two women on guard and that's been it."

"You're sure?" asked the Governor.

"Oh yeah. I checked with all the scouts. They've got to be inside planning something unless they've snuck out through a tunnel we don't know about," said Martinez. "I don't get it: I thought Rick was supposed to come right out after the kids."

"He _was_," said the Governor sharply. "This changes things."

"What do you want to do?"

"What I've wanted all along," said the Governor thoughtfully. "I want Rick to break, I want the prison, I want everyone in it dead, and I want Michonne to die horribly."

"That's a lot…what if Rick doesn't want to leave the prison? Do we attack it?"

"No. From what Mason said they've fortified it and gotten more guns. They'd also be protected from the biters that our shooting would bring in: they still hold the advantage," said the Governor.

"So we keep waiting?" asked Martinez.

The Governor smiled darkly.

"Go get Carl. I think he can help us out here."

Martinez's eyes narrowed at the Governor's request and then he left to round up the boy. While he waited, the Governor poured himself a drink and returned to the chair by the window. He sipped on his whiskey and thought over the situation with the prison.

Carl was marched in a moment later looking somewhat confused. Martinez drew up a chair for him and set it in front of the Governor's. Carl sat down and crossed his arms, and wiped all fear off his face.

"Carl, I seem to have a problem," announced the Governor, "and it's one that I think you can help me with."

"Anything," Carl answered eagerly.

The Governor smiled and looked at the boy. He was surprised when he didn't recoil or shrink away as so many of his men did. Perhaps the kid was more serious about joining him than he thought.

"It seems your father doesn't want to play my game. I thought he'd leave the prison to come after you, your sister, and Beth, but apparently I was mistaken. I guess he doesn't care about you as much as I thought he would."

"Guess not," said Carl lowly. "There's been a lot of that there lately."

The Governor leaned in closer to Carl as he spoke, "What will it take Carl? I know the prison will fall apart once he leaves it. So what will it take to get your father to come outside?"

Carl remained still in his chair as he debated what to say to the Governor. He knew he was being tested and it could spell life or death for him. The Governor was a smart man and he'd be able to tell if he was lying.

"You'll have to take someone he values more than us," said Carl cautiously. "He obviously doesn't need or care about us. We're just kids to him."

"Who will it take?" asked Martinez.

"I guess someone like Glenn, Maggie, Hershel, Daryl, or Tyreese. Those are the ones he's closest too," answered Carl.

The Governor sat back in his chair and looked up at Martinez.

"We've dealt with them before, I know what they look like," said Martinez.

"Good," said the Governor. "Then I want you to go back there and capture the first one of them that walks out the prison by themselves. I want it done quietly though and I don't want a big scene made out of it. It will hurt them more to know we've been slowly picking them off. Go set up along the trail you used. If Rick is holding them inside, eventually Glenn, Maggie, or Daryl will get fed up and come out on their own. You take them then."

"Preference on alive or dead?"

"Alive," chuckled the Governor. "Where's the fun if they're already dead?"

* * *

Daryl was jolted awake by the sound of his cell door closing. He sat up in the pitch black cell hoping he just might be able to discern the form of anyone in it with him.

"Rick?" he asked fearfully. Daryl then waited and listened for a reply.

After a time, he could only distinguish the sound of his breathing and decided Rick had probably stopped by and checked on him then left. Sighing, Daryl laid back down but sat right back up: His hands were no longer cuffed behind him but in front of him. He also realized that when he had woken up, he had been on his back meaning Rick had come in, moved him, and re-cuffed him without him being aware of it.

The thought of someone being able to maneuver him around so much without waking him was rather disturbing. Daryl was either more tired than he realized or being confined to the cell was messing with his head. At least his hands were in a better position and he could eat and drink when he needed to. He felt around for the bowl of food and cup of water that'd been left for him and he satisfied his growing hunger. He wasn't too hungry which meant he hadn't been locked away for that long—maybe only a few hours. Surely that was enough time for the Governor to send some sort of ransom letter for the kids. They were probably discussing it and Rick would be back soon to let him out for good. Until that time though, Daryl tried to settle himself and concentrate on how to get even with the Governor once and for all.

Rick waited on the other side of the door and listened until he heard the quiet sounds of Daryl eating diminish. He was surprised he'd been able to get in and out without waking Daryl when he was usually such a light sleeper. It was after midnight when Rick stopped by meaning Daryl had been locked up for about eight hours. He decided it wasn't fair to leave him handcuffed in such a poor position and wasn't going to make him eat out of his bowl like a dog. At the end of the day, Daryl was a decent guy who made some poor decision and unfortunately had to be punished for them.

Rick returned to the cellblock feeling a mild bit better about the Daryl situation. Once the Governor sent over the ransom note, he'd let Daryl out. Whatever Daryl decided at that point—whether he wanted to strike out on his own or stay and help—was up to him.

The people from Woodbury had been moved into C block and everyone gathered in the main part. They had too few able bodies to protect the two cell blocks and Karen and Sasha had been posted on guard at either end of the prison. Everyone, even the children, were then armed with a gun or knife and told to use them if the Governor showed up.

Rick walked by his cell and briefly looked in to make sure Daryl's crossbow and gun were still locked up. He had also reclaimed all the spare sets of keys and placed those behind the bars as well so there was no chance that Daryl would be let out before it was time.

"How long are you going to keep him locked up for Rick?" asked Hershel. The older man's eyes were puffy and red to match those of Maggie whonhad been crying for a decent part of the night.

"Until I no longer want to shoot him," said Rick, stopping near the group.

It might have been a little exaggerated but Rick wanted to get his point across: Daryl was in trouble and he wasn't going to tolerate it.

"He _is_ our best tracker," said Carol. "He could be out there and leading us to the Governor."

"We are not going anywhere," said Rick. "No one is leaving the prison grounds. The Governor obviously wants something and we have to wait until he tells us what that is. I don't want to jeopardize the lives of Beth, Judith, and Carl by running after him."

"I'm sorry Rick, but I don't agree with this at all," said Glenn as he stepped forward clutcrifles pistol. "We could still use Daryl as another set of eyes and gun against the Governor. What if he attacks tonight? It's going to take all of us to fight him off: We need Daryl."

"I want him locked up until the Governor makes his move, then Daryl can come out."

"What if he doesn't? What do we do then?" asked Glenn callously. "He doesn't follow the same rules that you think he does. Have you considered that?"

"He's going to—"

"And what if he doesn't?" interjected Glenn. "What if this is another one of his sick games and he only wants us to suffer? What if he never sends a ransom letter? Are you going to let him keep Carl, Judith, and Beth forever?"

"No—"

"Then cut the crap and let Daryl out. We have a trail to go off of…Daryl is the only one with a general idea of where the Governor is hiding so let him out."

Glenn glared fiercely at Rick, challenging his orders. The loss of Beth had unhinged Maggie. She had gone to her bed and curled up on it and refused to move, talk, or eat. Hershel was barely keeping it together and had spent hours staring blankly at a bible trying to find whatever sense he could in it. They were his family and no one was allowed to mess with his family.

Rick shook his head and squared his shoulders.

"My decision stands: No one leaves the prison…no one lets Daryl out. Anyone who does anything to put us or the kids at risk will be put in a cell next to Daryl," said Rick. "Now I suggest we all try to get some sleep. Karen and Sasha are on watch and the Governor won't make another move until morning."

"What if he wants us to give up the prison?" asked a man from Woodbury.

"We give it up," Rick said simply. "We do whatever the Governor wants to get the kids back."

Across the room, Michonne stiffened slightly. She had a feeling one of the things the Governor was going to request would be _her_. If Rick had nearly handed her over once before, he could do it for real. It was as simple as a math problem: Three lives for one. She knew she was a valued warrior but that was nothing compared to how much the kids meant to Rick, Hershel, Maggie, and Glenn. The people from Woodbury would go against her as well if it meant avoiding another fight with the Governor. She noticed too that while Rick had no problem looking anyone in the eye, he seemed to avoid her gaze. Her sentence sealed, Michonne broke from the group and returned to her cell.

Glenn continued to silently question everything Rick had come up with. His very name had become synonymous with ridiculous. Arresting Daryl…waiting for the Governor…it was all wrong. He saw Michonne leave and go to her cell and he briefly considered going after her and ask her opinion on it all. She had been about the only one to stand up for Daryl as well and if he could get her on his side, it might be enough to overthrow Rick. Instead, however, Glenn went back to his cell and sat on the bed next to Maggie.

She was no longer a quivering mess; her energy having been spent and tears no longer flowed from her swollen eyes. Glenn rubbed her shoulder and leaned over to give her a kiss on the cheek. Maggie's eyes flicked open and she tilted her head slightly towards Glenn.

"Anything?" she asked weakly.

"No," sighed Glenn. "Rick still has his head up his ass. For a man that was once a sheriff, he folds under pressure. We should have been out there hours ago. This is _bullshit_." Glenn slammed his hand against the bed which made Maggie cringe. "I'm sorry but he's wrong," whispered Glenn.

"We can't do anything," said Maggie, "and the Governor has Beth. If he..."

"He won't," said Glenn sternly. "He won't touch her. I'm not going to let him."

Maggie sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes.

"Glenn, what are you thinking? It's too dangerous to go after him by yourself and at night…"

Glenn looked over his shoulder and then moved in closer to Maggie.

"Rick is back knocking at the door of crazy town so I think it's best that you don't know. There's a chance it won't work and I'll end up down in solitary with Daryl. Don't worry, I'll be safe," he added quickly when Maggie's face collapsed. "I might need you to cover for me though…if anyone asks say I'm out patrolling the yard."

"Glenn…" she pleaded.

"I have to do this," he said and gave her a kiss before standing and going to the door. "I'll be safe."

* * *

Glenn was done. He left Maggie's cell and immediately went up to Michonne's. He didn't bother knocking at the door and barged right in. He caught Michonne by surprise and not surprisingly, then had a katana inches from his throat.

"Just me," he swallowed and Michonne lowered her blade. "I need your help with something."

"What it is?" she asked, her interest peaked.

"Every minute the Governor has the kids is a minute too many. We don't know what he's doing to them and we don't know what he wants. I can't stand to see Maggie and Hershel like this any longer. We have the start of a trail and Daryl knows roughly where the Governor's camp may be."

"You want to break Daryl out," Michonne guessed.

"I want to break Daryl out," confirmed Glenn. "It's bullshit that the one most likely to track the kids down is locked in a cell."

"I agree," said Michonne.

"Rick just went and checked on Daryl and I don't think he'll stop by again until the morning. If we can get him out now, it should be enough time for him to pick up the trail before Rick notices he's missing…do you have any experience picking locks?"

Michonne just simply smiled at Glenn and picked up one of her bags. She shouldered it and motioned for them to leave.

The group on the first floor had broken apart and drifted to their cells and other sleeping areas. Glenn and Michonne were able to sneak by without attracting any attention and slipped off towards the tombs.

"I think he's in this one…" said Glenn as they came to one of many similar looking cell doors. Michonne raised the slit in the door and looked through with her flashlight. The thin beam of light was cast in and landed on Daryl who was leaning against the far wall with his head between his knees. Michonne closed the slit and brushed Glenn aside. She opened her bag and pulled out several small wires that had been straightened from paper clips and inserted them into the lock. While she worked, Glenn went back to the end of the corridor to alert her if he saw Rick coming.

"_Glenn_," he heard her whisper a few minutes later and she motioned towards the cell door. Thrilled that she had managed to pick the lock, he rushed back and opened the door for them.

Daryl remained motionless as Michonne shined the flashlight on him. She held back as Glenn approached knowing Daryl wouldn't want to feel so cornered in the small cell.

"You just going to sit there all night?" asked Glenn. "Or you want to get the kids back?"

Daryl's head snapped up and he squinted through Michonne's light.

"Glenn? Michonne? What the hell are ya doin' here?"

"Breaking you out," Michonne said lightly.

"I thought ya were Rick," said Daryl.

"Rick doesn't know we're here and we need it to stay that way," said Glenn. He reached down and helped Daryl stand and frowned when he saw Daryl was still handcuffed. "Michonne, do we have time to get these off?"

"Easier than a prison door," said Michonne. She handed Glenn her flashlight to hold so she could work. Daryl studied every move Michonne made and copied it to his memory for future reference in case he would need it again. She had Daryl's wrists free quickly and he rubbed at the red marks the handcuffs had left behind.

"That's great," he said and almost thought about giving both of them a hug. "Now what's the plan?"

"I know you can track at night and if you go now, you might be able to find the Governor's camp by morning and come back. If we know for sure where he is, we can convince Rick to launch an attack," said Glenn. Daryl nodded and looked around the cell for his crossbow. "Rick locked your gun and bow up in his cell."

"Course he did," grumbled Daryl.

"You can take my gun," offered Glenn. "We'd come with you but it'd be too obvious if we both went missing. You'll be able to move faster and attract few walkers if it's just you."

"Yeah," agreed Daryl, taking Glenn's gun. He was handed a spare clip for it and shoved it deep in his pocket. It wasn't his preferred weapon but it'd work against the living and fortunately Rick left him his knife to use on the dead. "Where are y'all gonna be?"

"I'm going to patrol the yard. If you get into any trouble, don't hesitate to use the gun. I'll be able to hear it and we'll come after you. Michonne is going to be back in the cells with an eye on Rick."

"Two eyes," corrected Michonne. "I'll try to keep him from finding out you're gone for as long as possible."

"Got it," huffed Daryl. He took the flashlight from Glenn and a bottle of water from Michonne before running down the hall.

Daryl wove his way through the buildings and emerged at the back of the prison. He spotted the outline of someone up in the guard tower and pressed himself against a wall. There was a half moon in the clear sky so it was more than enough light to see with. He watched the person for several minutes and waited until it looked like they were at the far side of the observation deck before dashing forward. He moved from shadow to shadow and swiftly through the hole in the fence and to the safety of the trees.

"_Real observant_," he mumbled with a shake of his head. Daryl wasn't about to turn the flashlight on so close to the guard tower and he had to wait for his eyes to become adjusted to the lower light of the forest. He concentrated on picking up the different noises around him and for anything that might be dangerous—living or dead. Feeling quite confident nothing was around in his immediate area, Daryl crouched low and moved slowly. He knew there was a small path that he appeared to be on and let it guide him.

When he was confident he had traveled far enough from the prison, Daryl turned the light on and aimed it at the ground. He saw several sets of tracks leading towards the prison and then away from it and figured they were the ones made by Glenn, Tyreese, Karen, and Michonne meaning he had to go farther to find anything not made by the prison. Daryl kept walking until he found the area where Carl's hat and gun had been discovered. He gave the place a once over and finding nothing else, moved quickly on.

Something about the trail bothered Daryl and he couldn't quite place the feeling. He'd spent months in the woods hunting and he had never once come across it. He generally went hunting out the front gates and stayed that direction which was why he probably missed it.

"Real observant," he said to himself.

Daryl kept walking and finally came across something useful: a fallen walker. He grimaced as he bent down to inspect it and dipped his fingers into the blood coming from its head. His fingers came away dry meaning the thing had been killed a while ago. It also meant someone had killed it and they had been on the trail. Satisfied he was still going in the right direction, Daryl picked up his pace.

He was almost jogging when the beam of his flashlight fell upon a second walker lying down across the path in front of him. He stepped near it and leaned over to inspect it like the first: it too had been killed by a blow to the head. Daryl ran his fingers across its blood and immediately tensed: it was wet. The skin on Daryl's neck began to crawl and he got an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Whoever had used the trail had used it recently for the blood to still be wet. They'd been there within the hour.

Daryl calmed his breathing and ignored his throbbing heartbeat to focus on the forest. He listened for anything that didn't sound animal or walker made and stayed crouched where he was. He thought he heard something but couldn't quite place the noise. He waited to hear it again and was rewarded with a squeak and the bushes next to him shook. Daryl raised Glenn's pistol in its direction but lowered it when a small raccoon came out of the bush. It sat back on its legs to look and sniff at Daryl then turned and went the other direction.

Sighing with relief, Daryl straightened up.

"Kinda cute," said a man's voice to Daryl's left. Daryl spun and aimed his gun and light in the direction but found no target.

"Been feeding it for the last hour…we were just getting friendly," said a second voice to Daryl's right.

Daryl jerked and shone his flashlight around but whoever had spoken was still hiding.

"I'm gonna kill ya, ya assholes," he growled, daring one of them to step forward.

"No you're not," said a third voice from directly behind him.

Before Daryl could properly react, something collided with his right elbow that shot a deep pain through his entire arm. His hand released the gun and it fell to the ground. Daryl tried to draw his knife but the pain was replaced with a tingling numbness that made him unable to control his fingers.

"Miss me?" asked the third voice and Daryl turned around just enough to catch a fist in the side of his jaw. The hit pushed him back and he felt himself being steadied by two sets of hands that were not friendly. He tried to pull away but they closed in on him and several additional flashlights turned on.

"No I didn't miss ya," he snarled at Martinez and again tried to get away from the men restraining him. "I'm pretty sure I stabbed ya and yer Governor must've fixed ya up."

"He did," Martinez said and patted his right shoulder where Daryl had once stabbed him. "I'll admit; you got me pretty good. I still have your knife and I always said I should return it to you."

Daryl didn't like the sound of that one bit and he thrashed against those holding him. He tried sinking to the ground but a fifth hand reached into his hair and yanked him back. Martinez stepped forward and Daryl's eyes followed his hand as it reached for the knife at his belt. He raised it from its sheath and Daryl recognized it as his own. He tugged against the arms holding him and a sixth hand clamped down over his mouth. Martinez closed the final distance between he and Daryl and in one fluid motion, thrust the knife into Daryl's shoulder.

Daryl tried to yell out but the hand over his mouth muffled his pained cry. The knife was pressed in deeper until it made Daryl weak in the knees. He closed his eyes and whimpered as it hit bone and stopped.

"Like I said…I wanted to return it to you." Martinez smirked and released the knife, leaving it embedded in Daryl's shoulder.

* * *

A/N: Hehehe cliffhanger alert! Oh and just so you know, I'm not the type of writer that allows characters to be fine five minutes after being shot or stabbed. Just putting that out there. Thanks for all the love guys!


	39. I Want Daryl Back

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, intense violence, gore, and sexual situations.

* * *

Daryl drew in a sharp, ragged breath and shook from the pain of the knife in his shoulder.

"Let's see you use that crossbow now," taunted Martinez, eliciting dark laughter from his men.

Even if his mouth hadn't been covered, Daryl wouldn't have been able to come up with a sarcastic remark like he usually did. He was fighting with all he had to keep the pain at a manageable level. He was screwed and he knew it. He was outnumbered, and now injured to the point he'd only be able to use one arm in a fight: If he had just been able to get some warning shots off. Daryl saw the gun at his feet and knew he had only seconds to make his move.

Martinez smiled at Daryl and tugged the knife out of his shoulder. The air stung as it made contact with Daryl's broken flesh and blood from the gash ran down his chest. The only thing he could think of was to feign passing out and he allowed his body to go lax. The arms restraining him loosened and he dropped to the ground. Daryl felt the gun dig into his stomach and he reached for it before the Governor's men realized what was coming. He pulled it out, aimed it at the first man he saw, and pulled the trigger. Glenn's gun was not silenced and the man fell as the shot echoed through the trees. Daryl picked out a second and fired, dropping that one as well. His finger was on the trigger for a third shot, when Daryl's vision suddenly left him. A boot connected with the side of his head and everything was gone.

Martinez let a string of curses fly and grabbed the gun from Daryl's stilled hand.

"Son of a bitch!" he swore and gave Daryl a kick to his ribs to roll him over. Daryl groaned and reached for his side. His eyes flicked open but Martinez saw that he wasn't really 'there.' He reached down and cupped Daryl's chin and turned it to the side. "Yeah, he's not going to be a problem anymore."

Daryl heard words spoken over him but couldn't get a meaning out of them. He felt someone raise his arms up and then other hands on him as his vest was removed. Someone else was working on his shirt and the cool blade of a knife was pressed against his stomach. He wanted to recoil but found the action impossible. The next he knew, his shirt was cut away from him and he felt the slight discomfort from the forest floor digging into his uncovered back. A great pressure was applied to his shoulder wound and then something was stuck over it. More words came but he couldn't focus on the different sources.

He was vaguely aware that someone had their hands on his face until his mouth was opened and a wad of cloth was stuffed inside it. In the small portion of Daryl's brain that was working, he thought it was smart to gag him but overall pointless: he wasn't going to call out. There was no one to call for. He was all alone and too far from the prison for even his gunshots to be heard.

There were more hands on Daryl's head and he sensed it was being lifted off the ground. A little light had been coming in his eyes telling him they were open but then the light was gone and replaced with a scratchy piece of material that he felt being tied around the back of his head. His head was lowered again—none too gently—and then his legs were raised. They were brought together, tied, and dropped: They weren't taking any chances. In time his lifeless wrists were forced against one another and a small, rapid clicking noise followed suit. Daryl guessed zip ties and thought proudly that even when semiconscious, they still feared him.

Another man then spoke, said something about "making the injury worse" which drew hearty derision from several others. Daryl tried to gasp as his arms were jerked up and he felt something tear in his bad shoulder. His legs were lifted and realized he was no longer on the ground. The pain of being carried grew worse until it stopped altogether for Daryl and he finally checked out.

* * *

Glenn was using the moon to gauge the passage of time. After every lap of the prison, he'd stop in the same position and look up. Maybe an hour or so had passed since he and Michonne had last seen Daryl. It hadn't been long enough to truly concern him and he knew Daryl would need time to properly track the raiders at night. As long as they got him back into the cell before Rick checked it, everything would be fine. Sighing, he scanned the darkness outside the fence and continued to walk.

He made it another dozen steps when a distant gunshot caught his attention and then a second right on top of it. Glenn froze and waited, his fingers digging into the chain link fence. When no accompanying sound was heard, that was when he started to get concerned.

Daryl was always the most adamant about not firing a gun unless it was absolutely necessary. He went out with a knife and would use it to kill walkers silently. If he ran into more than he could handle with a single knife, Glenn knew he'd turn around and leave the area to avoid being overrun. Daryl would only use a gun against the living.

"Two shots," said Glenn, "only two." He guessed it was possible that Daryl had been able to sneak up on some of the Governor's men and take them out, but if it was only two, and he had the element of surprise, Daryl would go back to the knife. If Daryl met with too many walkers, he'd use a single shot to call for help, not two. No, something had gone afoul. There were also only the shots from one gun meaning there was no return fire. Maybe it hadn't been Daryl's gun and if that was the case, he was likely to have been shot. If they were his, that meant something had happened where Daryl was outnumbered and had been subdued.

Still willing to give Daryl the benefit of the doubt, Glenn made his way to the back of the prison and hid alongside one of the buildings to watch the hole in the fence. There was a slim, but ever shrinking chance that Daryl could be running from the living or dead and would burst back in. He counted to six hundred which would give Daryl ten minutes to return. That was more than enough time and when Glenn reached six hundred and one, he turned and ran to C block.

He entered the cellblock slowly to avoid disturbing anyone that may be trying to sleep but found most everyone still awake and speculating quietly. Carol sat with Maggie and stroked her hair in comfort. Hershel was on his cot while Rick and Tyreese were bent over a series of maps. Michonne was leaning against a far wall with her eyes glued to Rick but they shifted over to Glenn and his pale face almost immediately.

They both stood rooted to the spot, each silently asking the other what they were supposed to do next. In truth they both expected Daryl to come back saying the trail had gone cold or that'd he found the Governor's camp: him not returning wasn't part of the plan.

"Is something wrong?" asked Carol.

Rick and Tyreese immediately looked up at Carol and then over to Glenn who they hadn't realized was in the cellblock with them. Glenn tried to force some life back into his body but he ran cold. Maggie saw something was wrong and pulled away from Carol and rushed to Glenn.

"What is it?" she whispered reaching out to him.

Glenn met her eye and then looked past her to Rick. He gently moved Maggie aside while clutching her hand.

Clearing his throat, Glenn spoke in a strained voice, "There's a problem," he said. Michonne pushed off the wall and Glenn nodded at her. "I think Daryl's been captured."

Glenn's confession caught the prison off guard but drew in the attention of those from Woodbury. He saw that most were having a difficult time accepting the words 'Daryl' and 'captured' being used in the same sentence.

"Not possible," Rick stated simply. "We would know it if the prison was attacked again. He's still in his cell."

Glenn groaned and bit his lip.

"No he's not: Michonne and I broke him out so he could track down the kids. I gave him a gun and told him to use it if he got into trouble. I've been outside listening and there were two shots and he never came back."

Rick's jaw dropped along with everyone else's.

"If the Governor hadn't sent a ransom note by now, he isn't going to," said Michonne. "You locked up the most capable person of tracking him down. We had no choice."

"But what do you mean he was captured?" asked Carol who had began to shake. "You said there were shots…"

"Daryl would use a knife if he ran into walkers or only a few of the Governor's men. He'd fire one shot if he couldn't handle the walkers to get my attention, not two. He's either been captured or killed."

Carol covered her mouth and sank to her knees in tears. No one went to comfort her as they were all still trying to process the revelation for themselves. Glenn looked to Rick whose reaction he was most anxious for. The sheriff, however, was stone-faced. He might not have even heard what Glenn had said.

"What are we supposed to do?" asked Maggie. "He's got Carl, Beth, Judith, and now Daryl—who may or may not be alive."

"We have to go after him," said Glenn and Rick's body gave a small jerk.

"_No_," he hissed. "We are not going after him. No one else is leaving the prison."

"But he—" tried Carol before Rick stopped her.

"No. I'm not having another person lost to the Governor. It is too dangerous to go running off into the woods with as few as we have—and at night on top of it. If we are going to get the four of them back, we are going to do it the correct way. We'll start out at daybreak. The ground is still wet from the rain and there will be fresh tracks meaning we will have more to go off of. Daryl is a fighter and wouldn't be taken easily so I don't doubt the possibility that he is injured. That makes it imperative that we find them quickly, but we can't risk ourselves in the process."

"But they'll kill him!" protested Carol from the floor.

"No, not Daryl. Not right away at least. The Governor knows how important he is to us and will either want to make him suffer or for us to see it," said Michonne. "He'll survive the night."

"And that's supposed to be good news? Don't worry: Daryl's alive except he's going to be tortured to death? We can't let this happen!"

"Carol please," urged Rick. "Daryl is as important to me as he is to you—"

"Well lately you've got an interesting way of showing it!"

"Carol…" Rick's head fell and he looked like a man who desperately needed a stiff drink. "I screwed up—I did. I shouldn't have arrested him. We should have all followed the trail this afternoon. But going after him now could be a death sentence to all of us. We don't know who's waiting in the woods and we'll have a better sense of things once it's light."

"That's the smartest thing you've said all day," said Michonne.

"You agree with that?" shot Carol. "You're just going to let Daryl die?"

"He may already be dead. We have nothing to prove he _is_ alive. All Glenn heard were two gunshots. We don't know who fired them and at what. We don't know which end Daryl was on. We don't know why he hasn't come back yet. It only makes sense to wait until morning," explained Michonne. "If he is alive, the Governor will let us know."

"I agree," said Hershel and Tyreese at the same time.

"Me too," whispered Maggie. "It's too dangerous and we don't know if he's even alive."

"It's settled then," announced Rick. "The search for Daryl starts at dawn."

Carol was hardly pacified and ran to her and Daryl's shared cell where she wept uncontrollably. Glenn felt physically sick for having to bring the horrible news down upon the prison. He also wasn't about to let himself off the hook. He'd been the one to come up with the idea to break Daryl out so Daryl's blood was technically on his hands.

* * *

Across the cellblock, there was another man that felt Daryl's fate rested on him: Rick.

The news that Daryl may possibly be captured had hardly set in with him. Daryl was invincible and he'd shown that time and time again. It hardly felt like he was gone too: That Rick was going to look up and see Daryl cleaning his crossbow or organizing the search for the kids. It was Daryl Dixon.

Daryl was now in the possession of the Governor. Rick hoped that was the case at least. He'd rather have Daryl alive and with the madman than lying dead in the forest. If he was with the Governor, there was the slim chance that they could rescue him. Or trade for him...

The idea struck Rick like a hammer on a nail. The Governor clearly wanted something more than the kids and the fact that he hadn't sent a ransom letter attested to that. He was trying to draw them out of the prison and take them down one by one. It was only going to stop when he had who he was looking for. He obviously wanted Michonne for having killed his daughter Penny. Daryl was still probably on the list due to Merle. The third Rick guessed was himself, though he had personally done very little to the Governor.

Rick looked once around the cells and then into his: Daryl's crossbow sat uselessly on his cot and he'd never seen anything so sad in his life. He needed Daryl back. He had to get Daryl back.

"Rick, where are you going?" asked Maggie.

Rick paused at the door with his back to his friends.

"Just going to go relieve Karen from guard duty...we need everyone well rested. Try to get some sleep." He hardly gave them time to question him, and Rick was gone. He darted out the cell block and over to the guard tower at the back of the prison. He slung the tower door open and vaulted upstairs. At the top, Karen became aware that someone was rushing up the stairs and had her gun ready when Rick burst in.

"Damn Rick, you-what's wrong?" Karen changed course mid sentence when she saw Rick was extremely flustered and raw looking.

"Did you see anyone come out this way?"

"Um no," Karen said, shaking her head.

"Have you heard anything?"

Again Karen shook her head.

"I don't remember anything. Was there something I was supposed to hear?" she asked.

"Gunshots," said Rick.

"Maybe?" she sounded uncertain with herself. "I've been inside the tower some of the time. Did something happen?"

"Daryl might have been taken prisoner. He was let out and went after the kids. You didn't hear or see anything?"

"Daryl?" she gasped. "By the Governor?"

"That's how it looks. We'll start the search for him in the morning. It's too dangerous out here now: I want you to go back inside."

Karen was too shocked to say anything else and Rick was beyond relieved. She handed Rick her flashlight, gathered up what few belongings she brought with her, and went back to the cells. Rick waited until he was certain she was gone and left the tower. He stopped at the bottom and reassured himself he was doing the right thing for everyone. For the prison. For Daryl. For his kids.

He moved through the fence and picked up the dreaded trail easily. The same trail that had taken Daryl and his kids away from him. But now it was the trail that would also bring him back to his loved ones. The Governor wasn't going to get away with this one.

Rick walked cautiously and turned his light on only when he needed to make sure he hadn't veered off course. Every so often, he'd catch sight one of Daryl's boot prints and felt a bit warmer. He would place his own foot down in them and feel somewhat closer to Daryl by doing so. He was indeed walking in Daryl's footsteps. Daryl had been right when he had been wrong. Rick knew even now that Daryl was guiding him in the direction he needed to go.

Rick switched his flashlight on again and his stomach turned: in front of him were two bodies. Both had holes blown out the back of their heads and had been _alive_ when killed. Daryl had been here and these men had been the reason for the gunshots. It was what Rick expected and feared all along. He walked closer to the bodies and took the scene in. There was very little sign there'd been any sort of struggle. Other than the two bodies, there was a small dark stain on the ground.

Rick approached the spot and brushed his fingers over it: they came away tipped in red. Blood. But not from either man. This was from someone else. It was from Daryl, he could feel it. Daryl had been injured, but to what extent? There was no way to tell whether the wound was fatal. He could be chasing after a dead man.

Rick set his hand down to the side of him and felt something unnatural under it. Lifting it, he noticed a single zip tie. He knew exactly what that meant: Daryl had been taken alive. It also meant the Governor wanted him alive and had more sinister things planned for him. There was only one way to stop the Governor and save the kids and Daryl.

Sighing, Rick got to his knees and put his hands on his head.

"This is what he wanted, isn't it?" he asked the forest.

"It's about time," answered a voice to Rick's left. "He's gotten pretty annoyed with you."

Rick locked his gaze on the dark forest in front of him and refused to flinch as the Governor's men revealed themselves. He wasn't going to fight them so counting their numbers was pointless.

Martinez stepped forward and wrenched Rick's hands behind him and tightened two zip ties over his wrists.

"Get up," he ordered, "I don't want to carry you too."

Rick's heart sank. Daryl was hurt bad enough to either be unable to walk or was unconscious.

"Anyone know you came out here?" asked Martinez.

"No," said Rick truthfully.

"Right then," said Martinez. Rick then felt the man's hands on his belt and holster and was taking them off with ease. Rick felt the weight of his gun leave him as it was passed off to another man. Rick followed the holstered gun and saw it was handed to an older teenage boy who was also holding a familiar leather vest. "Go put those on their gate," Martinez told the teen and also handed him a slip of paper. "It'll give them a surprise to wake up to."

The teen nodded and walked away taking with him Rick's gun and Daryl's vest. There was the ransom note Rick had been waiting for.

* * *

A/N: Good spot to stop on. I imagine Rick running out the prison yelling "I want my Daryl back!" So I hope you have enjoyed. Thank you for all the reviews!


	40. Two Men, One Message

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, intense violence, gore, and sexual situations.

A/N: This is my favorite so far :)

* * *

Day came slower than usual, or so it seemed. The prison caught only fleeting sleep and for those that managed some, it was not restful. The sun's first beams woke Glenn from his light sleep and he yawned. Maggie's head was lying across his chest and he gently moved it to a pillow without disturbing her. He got out of bed with his feet striking the cement floor without a sound. Glenn crept along the row of cells and checked the various places people had crashed for the night. A fight was brewing with the Governor and they needed their strength up.

Glenn made sure to check off everyone and noted that the only people missing were Rick and Sasha. Karen had returned to her cell meaning Rick had indeed relieved her from guard duty in the night. Sasha could probably use a break and Glenn set off to call her back into the prison. He walked outside and headed for the guard tower. It was light enough and he surveyed the tower from a distance but failed to spot the silhouette of anyone up in it. Fearing Sasha might have been attacked, Glenn ran right up to the base of the tower.

"Sasha!" he called. "Are you up there?"

Several painstakingly long seconds passed and then Sasha's head popped up. Glenn sighed and waved to her. He saw her disappear again and knew she was coming down to meet him. The door at the bottom opened and Sasha emerged in good health.

"Glenn…I'm so sorry…I feel asleep for a bit: I couldn't help it. I knew I'd wake up if I heard them trying to break down the gate," she said, her face filled with regret.

"No it's ok: we should have sent someone out to trade with you. You shouldn't have been on watch all night," said Glenn as he tried to take some of the guilt away from Sasha. "It wasn't likely that the Governor would attack anyways: he'd wait for daylight, which we probably shouldn't be out here if that's the case. We'll keep watch from closer by the buildings."

Sasha smiled weakly, and then her eyes caught on something over Glenn's shoulder and the smile faded as quickly as it had come.

"Why are Daryl's vest and Rick's gun on the gate?" she asked, pointing a shaky finger.

Glenn spun so fast his vision needed a moment to catch up with him. When he was able to focus, he saw Daryl's vest and Rick's gun and belt hooked on the outside of the gate.

"_Oh shit_…" he murmured. "Rick's been taken too."

"Taken too? What do you mean?" came Sasha's worried albeit confused voice.

"Michonne and I let Daryl out last night to look for the kids. There were gunshots and he never came back…" Glenn peered around the trees and walked steadily for the gate. "Rick said he was going to replace Karen in the back guard tower…I don't think that was the case though."

Glenn opened the smaller side gate and Sasha joined him outside. He reached for Daryl's vest first and examined it.

"_Blood_," he whispered, running his fingers against the leather and over the hole from where Daryl had been stabbed. He handed the vest off to Sasha and raised Rick's holster off the fence. He was surprised to see the gun had been left in and he pulled it out, a thin slip of paper falling to the ground. Glenn instantly became more intrigued by the paper and picked it up. He unfolded it, read the sloppy writing once and went whiter than a walker.

"What is it?" asked Sasha.

Glenn's jaw clenched shut preventing him from speaking and he shook his head. He grabbed Sasha's shoulder and aimed her towards the prison. She quickly understood that whatever was in the note needed to be shared with the entire prison and allowed Glenn to guide her back. Glenn shot several nervous glances around as they headed in: he knew they were being watched.

Inside, the cellblock had begun to stir. Glenn heard voices carrying towards him and Sasha and was thankful that he at least wouldn't have to wake everyone to deliver the latest blow. He entered their main area and no one seemed particularly concerned and they went about their business. Glenn finally cleared his throat loudly and the chatter stopped at once. He held up Daryl's vest and Rick's holster for all to see and he found himself surrounded not a second later.

"These were on the gate: The Governor has Daryl _and_ Rick," he announced.

Dozens of startled faces peered back at Glenn unable to comprehend a single word he had just said.

"You've got to be kidding me," said Tyreese. "Did they attack the guard tower? He was supposed to be on watch there."

"No, we would have heard that. He probably went after Daryl and got caught," said Glenn.

"Oh I knew something was wrong," said Karen lowly. "He was _off_ when he came to get me. I never thought that'd he go after them by himself."

"I don't think any of us did," said Hershel. "But I think Daryl was the final straw for him and he finally broke. We've seen him act impulsively before and it does fit, despite how he might have been treating Daryl only a few hours ago."

Carol moved forward from the crowd and over to Daryl's vest. Glenn allowed her to take it so she could inspect it for herself.

"It looks like Daryl was stabbed…maybe not too badly though."

"How do you know that?" Carol asked Glenn. "There's a lot of blood here."

"Because of this—" he said and extracted a piece of paper from his pocket. All eyes followed his fingers as he opened it and Glenn's mouth went dry but he forced himself to speak. "If anyone leaves the prison, they both die. Otherwise you'll get one back: their decision," he read.

Glenn finished reading and crumpled the paper in his hand.

"What does that mean?" asked Carol.

"It means they're watching the prison and will know if we try to sneak out…" Glenn said before his voice failed him.

"And that the Governor is going to make Rick and Daryl decide which one of them dies," finished Michonne.

* * *

The passage of time had been hard for Rick to tell. He'd been marched to the Governor's vehicles and then blindfolded. Before his vision had been taken from him, Rick had been allowed the briefest glimpse of Daryl who was lying in the bed of one of the trucks. It wasn't surprising to see him injured but rather the bandage over his shoulder caught the man off guard: the Governor had indeed wanted them both alive. Rick was torn from Daryl when he was shoved roughly inside the same truck and they were gone.

After driving for an unknown time and distance, the trucks stopped and Rick's door was opened for him. He fell to the ground where two sets of hands picked him right back up. He was half walked, half carried to a building, or so he guessed as he heard a door opening. He was then thrown down and pulled so that his back was resting against a beam in the floor. Someone threaded rope between the zip ties and he was secured to the post. He heard some shuffling from the direction he'd come from and guessed Daryl was being brought in too. The people passed near him and a foot grazed his leg. There were more noises now coming from behind him and he realized Daryl was being tied to the opposite side of the column as him.

A hand tugged at Rick's ropes and then he heard it testing the one on Daryl.

"That ought to hold 'em," a voice said out of the darkness.

"It better…Philip doesn't want to be disturbed until the morning so they're going to be in here until then."

"I don't want to guard them all night," whined a third voice, possibly of a younger man.

"No…we'll rotate one guard outside the door…they aren't going anywhere."

The talking stopped and Rick listened to the men's feet as they moved farther away and the door closed after them. He heard the unmistakable click as it was locked and knew someone would be right on the other side of it for the rest of the night.

Rick sighed and leaned his head back against the beam before remembering he was not alone.

"Daryl?" he asked hopefully.

There was the smallest muffled groan from behind Rick meaning Daryl was coming around. Rick worked with his hands until he got them on the same side of the post and he stretched his fingers back as far as he could searching for Daryl. They skimmed something warm and Rick stopped: he'd found Daryl's hand. Rick's heart sped up and he succeeded in hooking three of his fingers over Daryl's index and middle fingers. He squeezed gently.

"Daryl can you hear me? Are you there buddy?"

There was another soft moan and then Rick felt the return squeeze of Daryl's fingers against his.

"How bad are you hurt?"

Rick's question went without an answer and he started to get concerned. He could feel Daryl shift slightly but no sound came from him.

"Are you gagged? Squeeze once for yes and twice for no."

Rick felt Daryl's fingers press once into his. Well, thought Rick, at least they could communicate in some manner.

"Is it just your shoulder?"

It took longer for Daryl to squeeze once back and Rick guessed he was assessing his injuries.

"You're not lying are you?" Rick asked with half a smile.

He thought he heard a snort come from Daryl and then a single squeeze. There was a pause and then a second was added to it. So he was hurt a little more than just his shoulder. _Probably his head if they were able to knock him out_, guessed Rick.

"I can't see anything—can you?" asked Rick.

Two squeezes-no.

"Do you think we'll get out of here?"

He felt Daryl's fingers press against his three times and was slightly confused by the action.

"You think we'll get out but we might not be alive."

One squeeze-yes.

Rick's head fell forward. Of course the Governor wanted them dead and to probably suffer first. He had allowed Daryl to walk into a death trap and followed suit himself.

The next question burned at Rick and he was almost afraid to ask it.

"_Do you forgive me?_"

Daryl's fingers wrapped around Rick's in one long squeeze, and then they were gone. Rick went rigid while he both heard and felt Daryl struggling behind him. A minute later, Daryl had maneuvered himself around the post to be able to sit directly beside Rick. Rick felt Daryl's whole hand slip into his and he smiled.

"They didn't tie you as tight as me," he mused.

One squeeze.

"Can you get us untied or did you already try that?"

Daryl withdrew from Rick's hand and he tested their ropes for himself. After another minute, he took Rick's hand again and squeezed it twice.

"It was worth a shot," sighed Rick. He leaned his head back against the beam and then he felt something on shoulder. It moved a little and Rick realized Daryl was resting his head against him. "Try to get some sleep."

Daryl answered Rick's question by gripping his hand three times meaning his answer could not be classified as a yes or no. If Dayl had been able to speak he figured it'd be something like "been sleepin' this whole time, ya moron. Ya think I need anymore?"

"Yeah…you've probably had enough of it. What else can we talk about…"

They went on like that for the remainder of the night: Rick would ask something and Daryl would answer it in his own way. Neither were in the mood for sleep if it was going to be their last night alive, though they both tried not to look at it that way. Rick held onto the slim hope that Michonne or Glenn would come busting in to save them at the last minute like what always happened in the movies. He was able to gather from Daryl that perhaps the Governor would take them back to the prison and execute them in front of all their friends.

Rick had progressively gotten braver with his questions once he figured Daryl would answer anything as long as he could do it silently. His final one had been if Daryl had ever considered sleeping with Carol but he was interrupted by the chirping of a bird outside and he felt Daryl tense up.

"It's morning," Rick said lowly. "The Governor will be here soon."

'Soon' was only ten minutes later. The door opened behind the men and both straightened, ears listening to every footstep and breath that approached them. But also to the crying of a baby: the kids were there too.

Someone came nearer to Rick and he sensed their shadow looming over him. A hand came up to his head and removed his blindfold. He closed his eyes against the sun streaming in the window in front of him and heard a hiss from his left as Daryl's eyes were uncovered as well. Once the light was no longer blinding, Rick opened his eyes and looked about for the first time. He and Daryl sat tied in the center of a barn with a table and chairs on their right. Carl and Beth sat on either ends of the table: Judith in the hands of Beth.

Rick swallowed and looked each of them over. Beth appeared tired, and rightfully so. Judith squirmed in her arms but was being fed a bottle so she'd been taken care of. When Rick looked to Carl, the boy turned to the side, unable to meet his father's gaze.

"They've haven't been hurt, if that was what you were wondering," said the Governor, kneeling down to Rick and Daryl's level.

"I'm gonna kill ya, ya sick—" snarled Daryl but was silenced when the Governor jabbed him in his injured shoulder. Daryl bit back a pathetically small cry and his chest quivered from the pain.

"I want to keep this short; I'm a busy man," said the Governor, turning from Daryl. "You wasted a lot of my time Rick."

"I'm sorry I didn't realize you had a schedule to keep: I would have been more considerate otherwise," said Rick coldly.

The Governor cracked a smile and rocked back on his heels.

"No; part of it was my fault. I expected you to play my game a little differently. Next time you think someone is kidnapping children to draw you out of the prison; I suggest you go along with it."

"You want to keep this short, so alright. What do you want?" asked Rick.

The Governor's smile grew and a darkness crept into his eyes.

"I want Michonne. I want the prison. And I want to destroy you in the process."

"You've already taken my two kids, I'd say you've accomplished your third goal," said Rick.

"Taken? No Rick I did not take both your kids: Carl volunteered to come here, isn't that right?" The Governor straightened and turned back to Carl who did his best not to shrink away. "Didn't you tell Martinez that you hated the prison and everyone there and you wanted to join me?"

"I did…I hate you," he said looking down at his father. "I'll do whatever it takes to earn my place here."

Daryl immediately came to life while Rick was frozen in place.

"What the hell is wrong with ya Carl? Don't ya know all the shit he's done? Ya can't—"

Martinez came up and punched Daryl to get him to shut up. His head was thrown against Rick and a few drops of blood dripped out of his split lip.

"Are you done?" asked Martinez. "He's trying to have a conversation here."

Daryl spit a red glob back at Martinez and was rewarded with Rick's pleading hand squeezing his, begging him not to make things worse for himself.

"I don't believe it," said Rick to both his son and the Governor. "I won't believe it."

"That's your prerogative," said the Governor. "Now to my other requests: Michonne and the prison. You have a good setup there and I want it. So if you want to see Beth and your daughter again, you are going to go back there move out. Get everyone out except for Michonne. You are to lock her in one of the cells—preferably one that is easy to find but impossible to escape from. I'll give you and your people two weeks to do that and get as far from here as possible. Do you find any of this unreasonable, either of you?"

"No," said Daryl quickly, half surprising Rick that he'd be so willing to turn Michonne over.

"And what about you Rick? It's not up for negotiation."

Rick looked over again at Judith and Beth. Something in Beth's face begged him to take the Governor's offer.

"We'll do it," Rick said, nodding.

"That's great!" The Governor smiled again and clapped his hands. "That's great—it really is. Now, how many men does it take to carry a message?"

Rick cocked his head to the side and heard the beginning of a swear come out of Daryl.

"Only one," answered Martinez.

"That's right. So Rick, Daryl…one of you will return to the prison and move them out, the other will die. We'll give you ten minutes to decide who does what."

The Governor grinned and motioned for Martinez to take Beth and Judith away with Carl following like a puppy behind.

"Ten minutes you two," said the Governor again before leaving and closing the door on Rick and Daryl.

* * *

A/N: So, who lives and who dies? Does Rick offer himself up to make up for all the poor decisions he's made? Or does Daryl sacrifice himself? Perhaps Glenn and Michonne do come busting in to save them. Who knows…

Thanks for all the reviews, favorites, and follows. I'm sure this was a mean chapter. But the next chapters are worse and will be rated M for some language and violence. Be warned.


	41. The Governor's Games part 1

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated M for language, intense violence, gore, and sexual situations.

I would just like to welcome everyone to what I like to call "The Governor's Games." Sounds fun, doesn't it?

* * *

"No…"

"How can he make them decide that?"

"He…they…"

"No…no…"

"Rick or Daryl—it's not possible."

The voices of the prison were overlaid on one another, each person's cries fighting for dominance to be heard above the others. It was a situation no one had seen coming: Rick and Daryl having to choose which one of them had to die. They never thought they'd live to see the day that anyone would be so cruel as to force anyone to decide that.

"We have to do something!"

"There's nothing we can do Carol," said Tyreese.

"That's Rick and Daryl. We are not going to sit here and let the Governor kill one of them!" snapped Carol. Her chest heaved pushing a dire fierceness into her words. "How long do you think we'll last without them? It doesn't matter which one comes back alive, we will not live much longer. Rick is our leader through and through. He's made some bad calls, but he's still gotten us through all of our tough times. Daryl protects us, he feeds us. If there was a person that any of us could fall back on, it's him. It doesn't matter which one of them dies, we are going to lose a very precious man."

No one could disagree with Carol. She stood back and watched the others as they chewed on their own thoughts over the matter.

"We have to try: It may not be too late to save them," said Michonne. "The Governor has found a new army and we need everyone against them."

"If we could do a sneak attack before he kills either of them. Maybe we could catch him when he's not ready for us. In the confusion we can rescue Daryl and Rick," said Glenn. "I'm willing to try anything."

Half the prison nodded with Glenn while the other half stared off blankly still trying to unravel things.

"We should send someone out back while someone tries to go through the front gate. I doubt they're watching the entire prison," said Hershel.

"Michonne and I will go," volunteered Glenn. "We can test it and see which side they aren't watching. Then we'll come back and run everyone through there."

"And what if they _are_ watching both sides and they report back to the Governor and he executes both Rick and Daryl?" asked Karen. "He said not to leave or they both die. Do you really want to risk it?"

"No but our other choice is to stay here and _allow_ one of them to die," said Glenn. "I'm going to go to the back while Michonne, you try the front gate. I want everyone else to stay inside."

Michonne turned swiftly with all eyes following her. Glenn remained where he was, still holding Rick's gun. He looked at it and mentally pinched himself thinking it was time to wake up from this nightmare.

"Be careful," a woman said from behind him. Glenn looked back and saw Maggie next to Hershel. She half smiled and her eyes told him he was making the right decision. "We were supposed to be getting married today. Don't do anything to get yourself killed."

"No more funerals," whispered Glenn, giving her a kiss on her forehead. "None for me, Michonne, Rick or Daryl. I'll be safe and we'll get them back. I promise."

Maggie nodded and Glenn brought her in for a deep kiss. When they broke apart, he immediately headed out the cell block and towards the back of the prison.

He stole away alongside the buildings and kept to the shadows as best he could. The morning was still new and the darkness offered him some cover. Glenn had to remind himself that he was only on a reconnaissance mission: his goal was to scout out the area and see whether it was safe enough to bring the rest of the prison through it. When he saw the hole in the fence, he fought every urge not to go rushing out. Not only did he promise Maggie that he'd be careful but he also didn't want to jeopardize Rick and Daryl. Every second that ticked by brought one of them closer to their deaths, if they weren't dead already, and Glenn pushed caution away. He tore into a run and sprinted for the fence.

Glenn knew something was amiss before anything actually happened. The sensation that he was being watched crept over him as he rushed for the fence. He saw the quick glint of something shiny hidden back in the trees and then a bullet whizzed by his right ear. A second one kicked cement up by his feet and he threw himself to the ground. He covered his head and waited for the killing shot but it never came. Hesitantly he looked around for the shooter. When no one revealed themselves, Glenn stood.

"_Warning shots_," he thought to himself. They were not meant to kill him, only keep him from leaving the prison. The Governor had people watching the back of the prison, cutting off their most likely route out.

Glenn scanned the trees for another minute and decided any attempt at leaving was going to be in vain. The Governor wanted to play with them, and so he was. He wasn't going to let them cheat. He'd been so meticulous in everything else he'd done, he wouldn't leave the prison unattended. He would know they'd plan a rescue mission thereby making it pointless to capture the kids, Rick, and Daryl in the first place. The Governor meant it when only one of the men would return.

Ultimately defeated, Glenn gave the trees the dirtiest look he could muster and hoped that whoever had a scope on him had seen it. He turned and started back, walking along the fence and peering out. There were a few instances where he was sure he'd seen someone walking parallel to him in the woods outside. That had been his other brief thought: cut a new hole in the fence and sneak out through the side. But no: they were surrounded on all sides.

Glenn re-entered the cellblock with Michonne already back in the center of the group.

"Any luck?" he asked, although the look on her face spoke more than any words could.

"Got shot at three times."

"I only got two," said Glenn lowly. "There's someone at the back and along the sides…Other than to dig a tunnel, we're not getting out of here."

"We'll take the cars and drive through them," said Carol.

"And if they have any radios, they can call back to the Governor and tell him we've left," said Michonne. "Rick and Daryl would be dead before we'd get thirty seconds down the road."

"Back to square zero," sighed Glenn. He ran his hands through his hair and sat down. Maggie came to him and sat next to him, her hand threading through one of his. Karen and Tyreese too sat and soon everyone gave up on standing. They either hung their heads or rested them against the shoulder of someone they might draw comfort from. The silence in the room was deafening as they all realized they had lost and the Governor had won.

"Who do you think it will be?" Sasha asked in a small whisper. Several glared her down causing her to rethink her question. "I mean we have to be prepared for either outcome."

"That's true," said Hershel with his voice of reason. "I don't doubt for a second that Daryl will gladly sacrifice himself for Rick. He's almost took a bullet for him back with Carl…I don't see how he wouldn't do it again. Unfortunately this will be his last time."

"Rick is going to lose it, and worse than we've ever seen him," said Glenn. "How do we deal that?"

"We deal with it as it unfolds."

Glenn leaned back and rested on the cool prison floor. He covered his eyes and sighed.

"What if Rick dies? What if he stops Daryl? There's a chance that Daryl won't sacrifice himself," insisted Carol.

"That is also true: he might be mad at Rick for locking him up and how he handled things recently. Rick might be able to convince Daryl to let him die and that Daryl would be a better leader for the prison," said Hershel again. "Normal Daryl would die for Rick. But we don't know how he's feeling right now and what else has happened since they've been captured."

"So we wait?" asked Maggie.

"We wait."

"No we will not," rasped Glenn. He forced himself to sit with Maggie clinging to his arm. "We are not just going to _wait_. We are going to do something even if we can't free Rick and Daryl...We _are_ going to get ready for war."

* * *

The Governor tossed one final smile over his shoulder at his prisoners and closed the barn door behind him. It was enough to unhinge Daryl and he pulled and twisted at the rope that tied him to the post. Rick however remained calm, ready to be Daryl's rock for whenever the man needed him.

"Ya fuckin' bastard!" Daryl yelled at the door. "You sick fuckin'-I'm gonna kill ya, ya son of a bitch! Come back in here and-"

"_Daryl_..."

"Yer nothin' more than a little bitch! Yer scared of us!" Daryl threw his head back and ripped at the rope around his wrists once more. "Come back here so I can stab yer eye out!"

"_Daryl_."

"We ain't done with ya yet! Yer gonna be beggin' for death before long. This ain't over-ya think ya can kill us but ya can't!"

"Daryl, please stop." Rick looked to Daryl: the red on his shoulder bandage was spreading meaning the only thing he was accomplishing was making his injury worse.

"Why so he can kill us? I ain't gonna go down without a fight and neither are you...c'mon: there's got to be a way out of this..." Daryl grunted and Rick flinched as he shoved into the post, trying to dislodge it from the ceiling.

"There is a way out of this," said Rick shallowly.

"Yeah and we'd be findin' it a lot faster if ya would help more..."

Rick closed his eyes and put his head against the pole Daryl was trying to break from.

"_Me_..."

The word had barely come from Rick's mouth when Daryl stopped fighting. He tried to claim whatever authority may still be left for him and wanted to sound sure, strong, but more importantly, something Daryl couldn't argue with.

"I'll die. It should be me."

Rick opened his eyes when he felt those of Daryl's burning into him. He stared into Daryl's bright blue eyes for what was sure to be one of the last times and silently asked him to hear him out. Rick reached for Daryl's hand again and squeezed hard.

"I should be the one to die—just listen Daryl." Daryl's mouth had opened the smallest amount and Rick knew he was about to say something stupid like offering to sacrifice himself. "Looking back on everything, I don't know why you or anyone else ever listened to me. I was never meant to lead the group and I've made some real bullshit decisions in my time. My time is over now: it'll be up to you."

"Rick…ya—"

"_Please_," said Rick, a certain longing in his voice. "I know you can lead them. They will all gladly look up to you and _you will_ kill the Governor. You're better at surviving in this world anyways. You'll keep them safe, I know it."

Daryl cast his eyes down onto his legs and let out a lengthy sigh, his chest quivering with the breath.

"What 'bout your kids?" he asked faintly.

"What kids? He's not going to give Judith back, nor Beth. You're going to have to take that into consideration when you return to the prison. I imagine Maggie and Hershel will be heartbroken. Glenn will do anything to get even with the Governor and you'll have to keep him from getting himself killed in the process. I wish I could go back and correct all the times I screwed up…make things better and maybe it wouldn't have turned out like this. I wish I could have saved Carl and that's my biggest regret in all this," said Rick.

"Ya did a good job with him. It was this world that turned him into a piece of shit," said Daryl hoarsely. "Ain't yer fault or his: ya gotta keep Carl off yer conscience."

"No…I failed Carl. This is what I get—what I deserve."

"Ya don't deserve to die."

Rick looked to Daryl and immediately regretted the decision. A single dirty tear rolled from Daryl's eye and streaked down his cheek. Daryl wiped his eye on his shoulder and bit hard on his lip.

"It will be an honor to die for you," whispered Rick.

Rick watched Daryl close his eyes as two more tears spilled out of them.

"Gonna miss ya…_damn it_," said Daryl. He thrust his head into the post behind them and gritted his teeth to keep himself together.

"Everyone has to die at some point: at least I'm here with you. If there was one person I'd want with me here at the end, it's you."

Daryl groaned and threw his head back again. Rick and all his sentimental crap wasn't making it any easier on him. "Anythin' ya want me to tell 'em?" he finally asked, another of their precious ten minutes leaving them.

"Do whatever it takes to beat this world," said Rick. "No matter what: we can't let the Governor or men like him win."

"Got it," said Daryl, squeezing Rick's hand back for the last time.

Rick leaned over as best he could and brought his knees to his chest. He savored every breath he took and wished he had more but the time for wishing was over. He told himself this was what he wanted. It wasn't like he was taking the cowards way out and begging for mercy or throwing Daryl to the Governor instead. It would be a better death than being bit and slowly turning. There were a thousand worse ways he could die and the Governor had actually made the decision easy for him. Just a bullet to the head or heart and he'd be gone. Then Daryl could go back to the prison and kill the bastard.

Rick and Daryl's final minute together slipped away but it was long enough for Rick to find peace with his decision. He was going to face the Governor and welcome his death. It would give the Governor the least amount of satisfaction to kill a man that was willing to die.

Rick didn't flinch as the barn door was opened again and the returning steps of the Governor and his entourage entered. He felt Daryl tense beside him but knew the time for comforting words was over.

The footsteps grew louder and closer until the Governor stood before Rick and Daryl. Rick looked up and met his eye, denying him the pleasure of seeing him afraid. The Governor nodded to Martinez who drew out a knife and bent down to cut the prisoners free. Daryl was jerked up first with a man on each of his arms holding him firmly. A minute later, Martinez and another man pulled Rick up. The Governor beckoned to someone else and Beth with Judith was pushed into view.

"Come here sweetie: you need to watch this," he said and pulled out a chair at the table for Beth. She looked at it with disdain but ultimately accepted it. The Governor smiled again and motioned for Carl to take the other one. The boy sat and looked up at the Governor without a flicker of emotion.

"We thought about taking bets on who dies but it's pointless when money doesn't matter," said Martinez. Rick couldn't help but notice the way he glanced at Daryl. "Although I'm pretty sure I know who it's going to be."

"You're wrong," said Rick coolly.

"Oh am I?" asked Martinez, daring Rick to tell him that Daryl wasn't going to be the one to die. "I don't think so."

The Governor chuckled and leaned back against the table.

"This is too much fun. I'm sure you two had a wonderful discussion on who gets to sacrifice themselves and die the hero," he laughed. "But tell me: who is it going to be?"

"Me."

That single word made Rick's blood run cold. He wasn't the one to speak.

"Told you I wasn't wrong," Martinez grinned greedily.

The two men holding Daryl suddenly pushed him forward and forced him to his knees in front of the Governor.

"NO!" yelled Rick. "Damn it Daryl...You can't take this from me!"

Rick struggled against the men restraining him but they didn't budge. He couldn't let Daryl die for him. It was supposed to be the other way around. His time was up; he was ok with that. He had accepted that he was going to die. Rick's plans had stopped: He saw no future for himself. He was to be shot and then he imagined his body would be thrown to walkers for them to devour. Nothing else was going to matter because he was going to be dead. Now Daryl was changing all that. Now Rick was going to be the one to live. To go back to the prison. To live without his children. To continue fighting the war. Daryl was meant to live, not him.

"Oh, it's seems we have a dilemma here…" mused the Governor. He looked between Daryl's downcast appearance and Rick's enraged protests and knew something hadn't gone as planned for the two men. "You were seriously going to sacrifice yourself, weren't you Rick?"

"I was and I still am!" shouted Rick.

"No he's not," said Daryl calmly. "Ya said one of us had to die and that yer on a schedule…so do it already."

Rick growled and threw off the arms holding him. He rushed for the Governor but was stopped as a third man intercepted him with a punch to the stomach. Rick stalled and it allowed Martinez to take control over him again. The Governor remained unconcerned and took his pistol off his hip. He flicked the safety off and pointed the gun at the center of Daryl's forehead. Daryl's eyes briefly watched the gun and then traveled to the Governor's face.

"Any last words Dixon?"

"Yeah…I'll see ya in Hell," Daryl said with a deep scowl.

The Governor both chuckled and nodded. Rick yelled again as the Governor pulled the hammer on the gun back and pressed the barrel's tip to Daryl's head. Daryl took what he figured to be his final breath and muttered "See ya in a minute Merle," before closing his eyes.

Rick's heart sped uncontrollably as the Governor's finger moved to the trigger. He couldn't even be certain he was still shouting for the Governor to spare Daryl and kill him instead. It was all wrong. Daryl wasn't supposed to die. If the Governor was going to do it, he needed to fucking do it, thought Rick. The wait was torture to both souls.

"You know what?" the Governor asked Daryl unexpectedly and tapped the gun against him. Daryl opened his eyes and glared up at the man. "Your brother and I aren't even yet."

The gun was removed from Daryl's head and he and Rick followed it as the Governor swung it around and pointed it to Judith.

"New game Rick: The baby or your best friend."

Whatever was left of Rick's world came crashing down upon him. A crushing darkness crept over him and stole his sight while its icy fingers dug into his heart. He knew he was no longer shouting and didn't quite understand who the new person was that was yelling for the Governor to go to hell. He guessed Daryl and out of his murky vision he saw someone strike out at him and roll him onto the floor. He heard another voice, this time a girl's that was crying.

"Come on Rick, I need you to focus here," the Governor called out to him. Martinez gave Rick a rough shake and slapped his cheek to pull him out of whatever dream land he'd skipped off to.

"There's—there's no way. There's no way you can expect me to make that decision," uttered Rick. He swallowed and looked at the gun that was pointed at his baby. The Governor smirked and trained the gun back on Daryl.

"Damn it Phillip! Yer supposed to kill me—leave her out of this! She ain't done shit to ya!" roared Daryl.

"As much as I would love to kill you, that isn't for me to decide anymore," said the Governor. "Now come on Rick: Daryl or your daughter?"

Rick shook his head.

"No, neither of them. You can kill me and let them both live."

"Oh I'm so sorry but that doesn't appear to be in the rulebook," said the Governor, his voice taking on a solid and threatening tone.

"_Please_…" asked Rick.

The Governor sighed and leaned against the table once more. He lowered his gun from Daryl and placed it on the table.

"Ok. I'll make it easier for you. How about that?" he asked, his eyes narrowing in on Rick.

"Easier?" croaked Rick. How could the decision to kill either his baby daughter or Daryl Dixon be made any easier.

"Absolutely," conceded the Governor. "I understand that the baby may not be yours. Since that's the case…I can shoot her in the head. It'll be fast, painless, and she's so young she won't even know she existed."

He tapped the gun on the table and spun it so it pointed back towards Beth and Judith. Judith would indeed have no idea what was going on around her and fidgeted in Beth's arms. Rick expected him to smile as he turned back to him but the Governor did not. The Governor set the gaze from his one eye on Rick that sent a shiver crawling along his spine.

"Daryl on the other hand," began the Governor, "I'll make _you_ torture him to death."

* * *

A/N: So, Daryl, Judith, or will the others still find a way to save them? Thanks for everyone that has stuck with the story and been so kind as to review/fav/follow. I want to give a shout out to Youde123 for just about the most epic review on this whole site. All y'all rock. Hope everyone comes back for the next chapter of "the Governor's Games."


	42. The Governor's Games part 2

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated **M** for language, intense violence, gore, and sexual situations. Seriously. It's getting rough up in here.

* * *

Rick's stomach did a flip and then bottomed out. Everything was just white noise to him and the rushing in his ears made his head feel like it being held underwater. His world started to spin and he thrust an arm out as he fell to the side. One of the men around grabbed hold of him and kept him from hitting the ground too hard. He looked up to the Governor and saw his lips move but no words seemed to come out.

"What?" asked Rick.

"For the third time…Judith or Daryl…pick _one_."

"I can't," wheezed Rick. "I can't…you have to kill me."

The Governor rubbed his brow and shook his head.

"I've already said that is not an option. _You_ are returning to the prison. Either Judith or Daryl is not. I don't understand why that is so difficult for you to comprehend."

"You said you weren't going to hurt her," spoke Carl. "You said nothing was going to happen to Judith."

The Governor turned to the boy and almost laughed. Carl was doing his best to glare the Governor down but was hardly intimidating. He was hardly a quarter of the size of the older man, unarmed, and also outnumbered.

"I did say that, but things change. She may live—that is for your father to decide now," said the Governor with grim satisfaction. "If you are on my side, you have to accept that she may die."

"She's my sister," Carl said plainly.

"It's a cruel world we live in," said the Governor. "We've all lost someone and I could be doing her a favor. Look at it this way: I'm offering her a fast and painless death. Would you rather watch her be eaten? Or die from disease and sickness when she's old enough to know she's dying?"

Carl was mute but his eyes were not. They darted between Judith and Rick before settling on Daryl. Daryl felt the kid staring at him and looked his way. His eyes narrowed to mere slits and Carl's mouth twitched just slightly: Something was passed between the two that had each of their hearts fluttering. Daryl gave the smallest of nods and Carl relaxed back into his seat.

The Governor was unaware of the brief exchange, and satisfied that he'd heard the last from Carl, he returned his attention to Rick. "So, what is it going to be? Are you going to let me shoot the baby—maybe your baby? Or do you want to torture Daryl? Keep in mind that a card laid is a card played: whatever you decide is final."

Rick wanted to melt into the floor right then and there. He decided it had to be a dream or a joke, that someone somewhere was having a good laugh at him. Daryl or Judith—he'd laugh at it himself except for the fact that the Governor was serious. There was no possibility that both Daryl and Judith would survive unless Glenn and Michonne were about to throw themselves into the barn.

Rick turned to look feebly at the door behind him but it remained closed tight. Help was not coming. He had to make a decision.

_Judith or Daryl?_

Torture Daryl? To actually _torture_ Daryl. To cause him physical pain to the point that it killed him. Rick closed his eyes at the thought. He didn't want to be responsible for causing him pain. He didn't want to hear Daryl's screams. He didn't want to be the one to break his friend's body. No, he couldn't see himself torturing Daryl even if there was another life on the line so that meant Judith…

"Rick, ya know what ya gotta do," said Daryl, cutting into Rick's thoughts.

"I know…" said Rick. He looked over to Judith and his eyes traveled to the Governor and then down to the gun. The Governor cocked his head slightly and a smirk grew on his lips.

"Really now? That's an interesting decision," he said and his hand inched closer to the gun. "Are you sure that's what you want?"

Daryl took half a second to process what was about to transpire and lashed out at those holding him.

"Rick, what the hell are ya thinkin'? Ya can't let nothin' happen to her!" shouted Daryl. Martinez abandoned his post by Rick to aide those struggling with the redneck. He approached Daryl and clamped his hand down over his injured shoulder and it took effect immediately. Daryl stopped fighting and put everything he had into not crying out.

"I can't do _that_ to you," whispered Rick.

"But that's—that's yer baby…" panted Daryl.

"She may not be."

"That's Lil' Ass Kicker…ya can't let her die. Ya can't do it."

"I can," said Rick with a sense of finality in his voice.

Daryl dropped his head and chewed on his lip.

"Fine…" he sighed. "But know if ya let her die…I'll kill ya myself when we're out of this."

Daryl turned to Rick with pure hatred in his eyes. His threat was not an empty one.

"Oh! Well isn't this a fun new game?" laughed the Governor. "Really Daryl: you'll kill Rick if he lets Judith die?"

"I will," answered Daryl solidly.

"I think I'll allow that. Do you have a preference on a weapon?"

"Naw, my hands will do just fine," said Daryl.

"You—" Rick choked out before collapsing in on himself again.

Now it was either torture Daryl so that he and Judith could live, or kill Judith and Daryl would then kill him.

"Ya think I wanna kill ya?" asked Daryl. "Ya think I wanna threaten ya like that? Man, little Judith ain't nothin' but a baby. She hasn't even lived yet. Why ya gotta take that away from her even if the world we live in is full of shit."

"I can't hurt you Daryl," said Rick. "I can't do it."

"Yes ya can, and ya have to…what'd ya tell me just a few minutes ago?" asked Daryl prompting Rick to search his memory. "Ya said we can't let men like him—" Daryl nodded towards the Governor, "—win. Ya said we gotta do whatever it takes to beat this world. How's killin' a baby, who's our future, fall into that? If ya let Judith die then that's like sayin' ya don't give a shit. Damn it Rick, we haven't been fightin' for a prison, we've been fightin' for _her_. She's the only future we got."

"Daryl I can't—"

"What do ya mean 'I can't?' Hell, ya got the easy part here. Ya tryin' to say _I_ can't take it? Ya think I put these scars on myself?" Daryl gestured to his chest and back. "Ya think I wasn't tortured enough when I was a kid? It felt like I got beat every damn day and for no reason other than I was a piece of shit that my old man hated every inch of me. C'mon Rick: ya know I can take it."

"No you can't," laughed the Governor.

"Fine, then I'll try to," snapped Daryl. "I've done some shitty things in my life-I really have. And I wasn't much before the world ended. Hell, me and Merle were gonna rob the camp back in Atlanta; didn't matter if we killed anyone. If Carl or Lori got in the way, we coulda laid them out no problem. That was with Merle and then when I lost him, ya took me in. Ya made me part of yer group. I felt like I belonged somewhere for the first time in my life. All y'all care 'bout me and I ain't never had that before. Yer the first family I ever had. Ya gave me a second chance at living so how's it fair that Lil' Ass Kicker has to die before she's even lived once?"

"I...you..." Rick stuttered, just as lost as he had been.

"Point is man, I don't care what happens to me as long as she lives," finished Daryl in a whisper.

"It will only hurt until he dies," said the Governor.

Rick cleared his throat and nodded.

"What was that? I need you to _say_ it," insisted the Governor.

"_Daryl,_" whispered Rick.

The Governor smiled, his whole face brightening.

"You want to do what to Daryl?"

"I—I want to…to torture him…" said Rick.

The Governor nodded his approval and his eyes left Rick. With a flick of his wrist, he motioned for Martinez and Shumpert. The two men hauled Daryl to his feet and pushed him towards the table while a third man retrieved the ropes that'd been used to tie Rick and Daryl. The Governor stepped aside as the men forced Daryl against the table. Shumpert grabbed the back of Daryl's head and slammed it down on the tabletop so that he was bent at the waist. Beth and Carl each reacted equally and backed their chairs away, not wanting to interfere with whatever was about to happen. As Shumpert held him, Martinez spread Daryl's arms lengthwise across the table and tied his wrists to it with the coarse rope.

Rick's stomach sank as he saw that Daryl didn't fight it and was accepting his painful fate. It was really going to happen. He tried to remind himself that Daryl had volunteered for this, that he wanted it to happen, but it was still Daryl and he was going to have to kill him in the slowest way possible.

Martinez finished the last knot on Daryl and stepped away. The Governor moved back in and set a hand on one of the ropes. He walked slowly around the table, and as he walked, he ran his hand up the rope and onto Daryl's wrist. Rick watched helplessly as Daryl flinched and he jerked against the rope but it offered very little give. The Governor licked his lips and his hand moved slowly up Daryl's right arm and curled around his injured shoulder. Daryl shuddered once and tried to move away but was bound too tight.

Again the Governor smiled and he placed both his hands on Daryl's upper back. "Well it looks like someone already got their hands on you…Merle maybe?" he asked as he traced one of Daryl's scars. "Or someone else? Did your daddy like to get rough with you?"

"Screw—"

Rick flinched as the Governor reached into Daryl's hair and shoved his head roughly into the table before he could finish.

"Tell me Daryl, which one hurt the most?" the Governor asked then trailed his fingers down Daryl's spine. He traced each scar and then began to rub his hands over Daryl's back in an almost massage-like manner. But unlike with a massage, Daryl didn't relax. Every muscle in his body tensed and the Governor might as well been feeling a stone. Daryl's breathing sped noticeably and he shifted his weight around on his legs like he was nervous. The Governor laughed at the effect he was having and brought his hands to Daryl's tender sides and then down to his hips. He stepped behind his prisoner and pressed up against him, his fingers digging into Daryl's skin.

"I suppose you and I can have some fun before Rick ruins you." He pressed himself harder against Daryl and leaned over his back to whisper in his ear. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

The Governor's hands moved to Daryl's belt and began to undo it and for Daryl, that was the final straw. He began to twist his waist wildly in an attempt to turn away from the other man's roving hands. He tried throwing his hips into the table to crush the Governor's hands but the man only pinned him to it harder.

"I was hoping you were going to fight," growled the Governor as he pulled Daryl's belt free. "Oh yes, this is going to make things so much more fun for me."

Daryl stilled instantly. If whatever was about to happen had to happen, he wasn't going to give the bastard the satisfaction of seeing him panic. He tried to think of anything other than where he was but that was impossible with the Governor and his…right there on him. It was then that Judith decided to start crying causing Daryl to bang his own head into the table.

"Damn it man," he said only so the Governor could hear, "not in front of the kids…they don't need to see this shit."

"Keep that baby quiet," ordered the Governor and Daryl felt some of his weight temporarily leave his back while he talked. The sensation didn't last for long and as soon as Judith was hushed, the Governor was on him again. "Now," the Governor's lips grazed Daryl's ear as he spoke, "you're not in any position to tell me what to do. Understand that?" One of the man's hands moved down from Daryl's hip and settled on his upper thigh giving it a firm squeeze.

"Ya gotta be—"

The Governor squeezed again and it shut Daryl right up. He began to work on the snap to Daryl's pants when the barn door was thrown open.

"Sir?" asked the newcomer, a teenaged male.

The Governor turned sharply and at the same time, released Daryl. "The prison?" he asked and the young man nodded.

Sighing, the Governor backed away from Daryl. "I'm coming. The rest of you stay here-I'll be back in a minute." He then held up Daryl's belt and offered it over to Rick. "Here Rick, why don't you hold this for me? You're going to need it in another minute," said the Governor.

Rick looked at the leather belt and was unaware of his hand reaching out to take it. The belt was still warm and he had a pretty good idea what he was going to have to do with it. It wouldn't be the first time Daryl's back had tasted the bite of leather.

* * *

A/N: Sorry about the delay. Family stuff got me down and thanks to everyone that has helped get me through it. I hope the Governor wasn't too creepy. Just kidding. And for everyone that said they wanted Rick and Daryl to be rescued...really? I mean, I suppose that can happen...no wait, that thought is gone.


	43. The Governor's Games part 3

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: This is a very intense chapter. Very, very, VERY intense chapter. Seriously. I don't want to give anything away but it's quite intense (which if I am not mistaken, is what the majority of y'all have been waiting for). Enjoy...**

* * *

The Governor was only gone long enough for Rick and Daryl to catch a breath. One single agonizing breath. He returned wearing the same expression he left with: a cruel smirk that said he was overly confident with himself.

"Everything ok?" asked Martinez.

"Just fine," replied the Governor. He approached Daryl again and began to rub Daryl's shoulders until he felt a shiver run under his hands. Smiling, the Governor took the remaining seat at the table content with having seen Daryl squirm. "A couple people tried to leave the prison but they were stopped."

Both Rick and Daryl's hearts clenched as they each wondered who had attempted to come after them and how they had fared.

"Don't worry…just a few warning shots," said the Governor. "Although next time my men will be more accurate."

"Leave 'em alone," growled Daryl. "They haven't done anythin' to ya."

"True…but every war has its casualties," said the Governor. He leaned back in his chair and tossed his feet up on table to the side of Daryl's head, making himself quite comfortable. "Now Rick, if you don't mind…entertain me."

Rick stared back at the Governor as he silently refused to bend to the man's sick request. "I can't," he whispered, the belt in his hand pulling him down like it weighed a thousand pounds.

"Fine—then your baby dies."

The Governor reached for the gun while Beth jerked the baby away and tried to shield her from the man's wrath.

"NO!" roared Daryl. "Damn it Rick…ya gotta do it. We've been through this. I'm not worth her life."

Rick pressed his hands to his eyes as he tried to clear his mind. He couldn't…no, not to Daryl.

"_Please Rick_."

Daryl's voice shook Rick to his core. Daryl was asking for this. He wanted it. He was doing it to save Judith. But not only save Judith, but a chance at preserving life. Even if Judith wasn't his, Rick knew full and well that she was their chance at survival.

Rick tried to separate his mind from his body as he ran his fingers over the leather belt in his hands. Daryl tucked his chin into his chest and tensed against the ropes restraining him. The scars on his back stood out and Rick knew he was about to reopen some of them, and not just the physical ones.

"I'm getting bored," crooned the Governor. "You have ten seconds or I'll assume you want Judith to die. Are you really going to let a baby—"

Rick looked over at the Governor and before he was even aware of what he was doing, cracked the belt over Daryl's back. Daryl drew in a quick breath as the leather wrapped over his back leaving a long red trail in its wake. Rick raised the belt again and brought it down parallel to his first strike. He pulled up for a third hit that crossed the first two that instantly left the skin raised and a screaming shade of red. Rick laid two more successive hits on Daryl; each one landing with a sharp crack that had Daryl's lips quivering as he struggled to hold in the pain he was feeling.

"That's what I'm talking about…how are you feeling Daryl? Hurt yet?" asked the Governor.

"Ya gonna have to do more than that," said Daryl, taunting the man to do his worst.

"Oh don't worry…I'll make sure that happens," said the Governor, giving Daryl's head a rough pat. "I'm sorry to interrupt you…please continue Rick."

The Governor motioned for Rick to continue. Rick, however, was not as eager to continue. He couldn't look at Daryl and the pain he was causing him. Already Daryl's back had five strips of red and swollen skin across it and he wasn't looking forward to adding any more.

"_Daryl wants this_," Rick told himself and belted Daryl again.

Daryl's face scrunched up as the hit fell on three of the previous lashes and further irritated his skin. He allowed no cry to pass his lips as Rick was forced to lay the leather on him again.

Rick was both frustrated and relieved with Daryl's lack of reaction. Daryl had taken seven lashes without as much as a pained gasp. The Governor was a sick and twisted man who would only stop the torture once Daryl broke. The problem with that was Daryl wasn't going to break. If any man could take it, he could. He pulled a damn arrow out of his own side and climbed up and out of a deep ravine—Daryl wasn't going to break easily, if at all.

"Go ahead and cry if you want to. Scream. Let it all out," said the Governor as Rick continued to whip Daryl. "You _are_ going to scream before this is all over."

Daryl raised his head ever so slightly to glare at the Governor just as Rick set a particularly cruel lash his way that curled around his lower back and onto his stomach. It was the first that Daryl let out a strangled moan while his knees buckled. His arms were forced to take the brunt of his weight for the moment and the strain tugged at his already injured shoulder. He moaned a second time as the stab wound was pulled and the muscle there was torn deeper.

Rick's hand dropped as he watched Daryl struggle to regain control over himself. It took him several painful seconds, but Daryl was able to get his feet back under him. When he was steady, Rick looked at the Governor who nodded for him to continue. Sighing, Rick raised the belt and the leather fell on Daryl's abused skin again though he was careful about not striking so it hit his more sensitive sides.

Rick didn't keep track of how many lashes Daryl took but the Governor did. After the belt struck Daryl for the twentieth fifth time, he held up his hand. Rick was ready for another hit but reined in his arm before the leather bit into Daryl again.

"Why don't you take a break there for a second Rick, you're looking a little winded," suggested the Governor.

Sure enough, Rick swallowed and realized he was indeed out of breath. Daryl's belt dropped from his hand as he wiped several beads of sweat out of his eyes. His right arm ached and he went to massage it but stopped as he saw Daryl trembling in front of him. Daryl's chest heaved against the wooden table, each breath a strain on his beaten body. Rick didn't want to look at him and the pain he had caused his friend, but he also found he couldn't not look at him. Daryl's back was a mess of crisscrossed strips of swollen flesh. By the time Rick was done, there were more places that were red and inflamed than those that had been spared. There was one spot where the belt had struck three times and drawn a few drops of blood out.

"That all ya got?" asked Daryl in a coarse whisper, his eyes opening to reveal a spirit that wouldn't be broken. "My old man did worse when he was too drunk to piss straight."

"You want more, huh? That can be arranged," said the Governor. "Martinez—give me your knife."

Martinez came forward and set his utility knife on the table then returned to standing guard behind Rick. The Governor took his time in opening the knife set and selecting the perfect blade. He ran his fingers lightly over each and tested them for their sharpness. He closed one after the other until he came upon the very last one. Rick couldn't see what was so special about it but it had the other man smiling to himself.

"I think this will do," he said and laid out a shiny serrated knife. "Sorry, I don't trust you Rick. I think you'd want to cheat if I gave you a regular knife and you'd try to stab him to end his suffering too soon."

Rick sank on himself because that was what he had planned on doing for a fleeting moment. As soon as the Governor mentioned a knife, he jumped to the idea of stabbing Daryl just to give him a quick death. He'd take whatever penalty there'd be for such an action, but it'd be worth it not to have to hurt Daryl anymore—the same Daryl who gave the knife a quick once over and then shut his eyes tight.

Rick's hand shook uncontrollably as he reached for the knife and snatched it away so Daryl wouldn't have to be taunted by it anymore. Whatever residual heat the Governor had left on it was gone and all Rick felt was the cold metal that dug into his heart.

"Why don't you start here…" the Governor leaned forward from his chair and drew a line down Daryl's left shoulder with his finger. "And remember: no cheating. If he dies early, I'll kill Beth and Judith."

Rick swallowed again and forced his eyes to Daryl. He had to do it but he couldn't. He had already hurt Daryl enough to last a lifetime. No man should be made to endure what he was.

Rick could feel the handle of the knife warming the longer he held it. Daryl had closed his eyes and relaxed his body the best he could, the only thing left was to wait for the pain. Rick let the weight of the knife pull it down to Daryl's back. If Daryl could survive this he'd say something like "just do it already; a couple more scars ain't gonna make a difference." But this wasn't something he was going to survive and the cuts Rick was about to make would never be given the chance to turn into scars.

The cool teeth of the knife touched Daryl's shoulder blade above a dark set of scars that Rick guessed was the result of his father. The muscles under the knife coiled and twitched. Rick placed his left hand above the area to be cut but then immediately withdrew it and the knife. A single tear rolled from his eye and dripped onto the center of Daryl's back: He couldn't do it.

Daryl's eyes opened as he sensed Rick's hesitation. He tried to move enough to get a glimpse of Rick leaning over him. He arched his neck and back enough to bring his head up and pressed it against Rick's forehead.

"Rick, ya gotta do it man. Please…I'm beggin' ya. Ya can't let nothin' happen to those girls," whispered Daryl.

"I can't do this Daryl—not to you," said Rick.

"Ya can and ya gotta. I can take it," said Daryl.

"What are you so worried about Rick? It will only hurt until he dies," offered the Governor. "Although the longer you keep delaying, the longer that will be."

"Please, Rick?" asked Daryl as he put his head back on the table.

Rick shook his head out of disgust with himself, and in one move, brought the knife up and pressed it to Daryl's shoulder. He increased the pressure as he felt the tension in Daryl's skin grow until it finally gave way and the knife broke through. Daryl's shoulder twitched again and Rick pulled the knife down, parting the skin and driving the teeth across Daryl's already abused back.

Daryl was silent as the first cut was made. He dug his head into the table when he skin was torn and small droplets of blood welled up between the bits of broken flesh.

The Governor leaned forward to inspect the damage and frowned.

"Come on Rick, that wasn't very good. Beth can do better than that. Should we let her try it?" he asked.

Beth tensed next to the Governor and her eyes widened in horror at the prospect of being pulled into torturing Daryl.

"No!" shouted Daryl, pulling against the ropes that bound him to the table. "Damn it Rick; stop bein' a little bitch and cut me! Think of all the times ya wanted to and do it!"

Daryl was right and his words had a jarring effect on Rick: Beth had to be kept out of this. Rick focused and replaced the knife in the shallow cut he just made. He drew it back and forcibly tore his way through another layer of skin. Daryl groaned and Rick lifted the knife and set it back at the start of the cut. He pulled it along the same track once more then out, blood dripping off the blade and small chunks of skin caught in its teeth. The blood from Daryl's cut ran inwards and down his spine then spilled over the side of his lower back in red rivulets that stained the table.

"Again," ordered the Governor.

This time he was given no set area and Rick placed the knife over Daryl's tattooed shoulder. He pressed it in and drew it down until it cut through both of Daryl's tattoos in one long bloody line. Instinctively, Daryl tried to move away from the source of his pain but there was nowhere for him to go. Rick mumbled a 'sorry' that wasn't loud enough for anyone to hear and ran over the cut two more times until it was filled with blood. Daryl's breathing sped up but he was still swallowing back the majority of the pain being inflicted on him.

"That's better but lower," said the Governor. He pointed towards Daryl's lower back which would be much more sensitive. Rick placed the knife so it'd be parallel to Daryl's spine but the Governor stopped him. "No…across," he said and motioned with his hand. Rick was forced to change the direction he was to cut and hated himself for it. He wanted to think it was getting easier but it wasn't. Hurting Daryl would never get easier.

The third cut was the longest and more jagged as Rick's hand slipped with the blood. He sawed through the skin on Daryl's back and had blood blooming from the cut on his second pass. He touched the blade down at the start for a third time and felt Daryl suck in his stomach in order to pull farther away from it. So it was getting to him. Daryl wasn't as immune to the pain as he thought he was going to be.

"What's stopping you?" asked the Governor.

Rick didn't answer and put his left hand on Daryl's back to hold him in place. He glared up at the Governor and his one damned eye and pushed on the knife until its teeth disappeared in Daryl's skin.

"Nothing is stopping me. But remember: if I can do this to him, think of what I can do to _you,_" growled Rick. He yanked the knife though the cut both lengthening and deepening it. Daryl moaned and drove his head into the table as he bit down on his cheek to keep from crying out. Rick smeared some of the blood away to give him a clean shot at a fourth time and showed no mercy as he broke into muscle and ripped a small piece free.

The Governor pulled back in his chair some and Rick saw a wave of fear pass over his face. No matter what, he was going to kill the bastard and make his death a thousand times worse than what Daryl was going through.

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A/N: So the Governor's Games continue! I'm sorry this chapter took a while...I was out of town for several days. Won't do that to y'all again (hopefully).


	44. The Governor's Games part 4

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: Torture. Duh.**

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_A couple of really **important**/**awesome **things: one this story is going under "M" because it gets worse and the language and violence is rough. Also everyone should go tell **Candra** '**Wolfgal97**' how amazing she is for getting **David Della Rocco** to follow me on twitter and also taking **Norman Reedus** a letter I wrote for him. And a Gunniess world record sized thank you goes to **youde123** for **SHOWING NORMAN REEDUS CHAPTER 42**. Ya know when the Gov gets a little touchy-feely with Daryl. Apparently he said "Fuck me, that's awesome," and "fuck you, that's sick." Yeah. I don't have a vocabulary capable of expressing my reaction to that. So...yeah..._

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It was like a nightmare that was impossible to wake up from. Inch by inch, Rick destroyed whatever was remaining of Daryl's back. With every pull of the blade through Daryl's skin, Rick felt a part of himself break away. It wasn't getting easier—not the seventh, eighth, or ninth cut. Seeing Daryl's blood spill out, by the action of his own hand, sent dagger's into Rick's heart. He knew Daryl was fighting with everything he had in order to show he wasn't hurting. He had to do it though for his life, Judith's, and to prove to the Governor that he could expect a death that was worse than Hell itself.

Daryl's muscles rippled again as Rick started into another cut at the base of his shoulder blade. A deep groan rumbled in Daryl's chest that Rick forced himself to ignore. The Governor however wasn't oblivious and leaned across the table to still Rick's hand. He pressed his hand down over Rick's, forcing the knife's teeth deeper into Daryl. Daryl retreated farther into the table, the groan becoming a tense whimper.

"What was that?" asked the man. "Did you say something Daryl?"

"Didn't…didn't say shit," panted Daryl.

"No, maybe not but I'm sure you want to."

"Yeah…ya can go fuck yerself," Daryl snarled with a curling lip.

The Governor smiled but shook his head.

"Well," he sighed, "I was hoping for something more imaginative but I guess you have other things on your mind given the circumstances. But this has to hurt, doesn't it?"

"Nope," said Daryl all to quickly to be convincing.

"Really?" asked the Governor. "Interesting: I usually thought that blood was a sign that something was painful." He wiped his free hand across Daryl's back smearing it onto his palm before bringing it up and into Daryl's face. "This doesn't bother you?"

Daryl's eyes briefly opened to look at his own blood on the other man's hand and Rick felt a shudder pass through the body under him. The Governor felt it too and smiled.

"So it does…we're not far from your breaking point, are we?"

"Farther than ya think," Daryl answered with a thick and husky voice. "Ya don't think I haven't bled before? Ain't nothin' new."

"Not like this you haven't," said the Governor before taking hold of Rick's hand on the knife.

Rick wasn't sure if he was supposed to release it to the man or not so he would hold on until told otherwise. The Governor angled the knife so that the less sharp tip was digging into the cut. He increased the pressure on it causing it to burrow into the space between two of Daryl's ribs. He rocked his the knife back and forth to cut farther in.

"Much deeper and it'll go into your lung. Do you want to drown in your own blood?" asked the Governor. Daryl gave no answer which made his torturer push the knife through muscle and graze against one of his ribs. More blood welled up but it didn't stop the Governor from sliding the knife against the bone again.

Daryl's entire body jerked, whether voluntary or not. His lips curled back and a sharp but quick cry broke from his throat.

"And there it is," said the Governor, releasing Rick's hand over the knife. "Something finally got to the great Daryl Dixon."

Daryl's jaw trembled, his upper body and face soaked in either blood or sweat.

"Never called myself great…don't pretend to be somethin' I'm not. Like runnin' around goin' by 'The Governor,'" said Daryl.

The Governor glared at him for half a second then stole the knife from Rick. He pulled Daryl's hair back, drawing his head off the table. "Open your eyes," he demanded and waited to see the blue of Daryl's fiery eyes. Daryl obeyed but then flinched as the knife was pressed directly onto his cheek. "That's yours. That's your blood," said the Governor, wiping the knife across Daryl's left cheek and then to the other side. "And that's your skin," he said and picked the largest piece of torn flesh from the knife's teeth and held it up in front of Daryl's eyes. "Don't underestimate me or I'll filet you like a fish."

Daryl snorted and tried to pull his head free but the Governor refused to release him. He closed the serrated knife and then opened a regular sharp one, bringing the edge against the top of Daryl's bicep.

"I can start here," he said and made a clean slit in Daryl's arm.

"NO!" shouted Rick with an unexpected force that stopped the Governor from cutting any farther. It was bad enough that he was having to hurt Daryl but allowing that man do it was at an entirely other level. He was not going to sit idly by and watch Daryl be brought closer to death by the Governor. Daryl had decided he wanted to die by Rick's hand and that was how it was going to be."You…I—I thought you wanted me to do that," he said uncertainly.

The Governor paused and then withdrew the knife.

"You're right: this is supposed to be your job. But I'm bored…why don't we take this outside and try something new?" he asked.

Rick had to remind himself it was a rhetorical question and answering it might cause more trouble for Daryl so he nodded firmly. The Governor accepted that response and sawed at the ropes around Daryl's wrists until they came free. Once he was unbound, Daryl's body slipped off the table and Rick scrambled to catch him before he hit the barn floor.

"_Thanks_," whispered Daryl, "and thanks for not lettin' him do anythin'…don't want him touchin' me."

"Got it," said Rick, hauling Daryl up. Daryl had been tied to the table for quite some time making his muscles knot together. Standing was difficult for him and he clung to Rick for support. Rick wrapped his arm around Daryl's waist to steady him. Together they took a shaky step towards the barn door that Martinez was holding open for them. The Governor followed after with Beth, Judith, and Carl sandwiched between four guards.

Rick and Daryl hobbled along with the Governor around the side of the barn and into a corral.

"Over here," ordered the Governor from beside a water trough. "It's time to get you cleaned up Daryl."

Rick felt Daryl twist slightly into him, his walk slowing. The Governor caught his hesitation and pointed his gun towards Beth and Judith.

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a little water…now would be a hell of a time to get cold feet…probably cost one of the girls their lives. I won't be picky—either can go," he said and pulled the hammer on the gun back.

Beth trembled and sank back into the guard directly behind her. He reached around and grabbed her hips, pulling her in closer.

"Not this one…I was hoping I could have her," the man purred into her ear.

"Ya keep yer hands off her," shot Daryl, "or that'll be the last time ya ever use 'em."

The man smirked and dug his fingers into Beth until she squirmed.

"Keep her outta this," said Daryl, offering himself up. "Ya wanna screw with me then do it."

"That's better," said the Governor. "Let her go."

The guard rolled his eyes but eventually pushed Beth to the side. She hurried and backtracked to the fence where she was joined by Carl. The boy clutched at her arm and then rose up on his toes to whisper something. Whatever Carl said had a relaxing affect on Beth and some color returned to her face.

"Like I said before: Rick, Daryl, as long as you play by my rules, nothing will happen to any of the kids," said the Governor. "My only rule being Daryl isn't allowed to die until I say so."

"You've had your way so far. What makes you think anything would change now?" asked Rick.

"Because it's been easy for you. Both of you actually," said the Governor. Rick raised an eyebrow and drew Daryl closer to him while the Governor leaned up against the barn wall. He beckoned for the other two men to come to him and slowly they did.

Rick stopped with Daryl at the foot of the water trough and looked down at the murky water. The trough was filled three quarters of the way with what was assumed to be water although it appeared more like a stagnant sludge of algae. A few bugs and mosquito larvae floated around in the mix but went into deeper water as the men's shadows loomed over it.

"I hope you're good at holding your breath," hissed the Governor. Martinez took that as he cue and forced Daryl onto his knees with his stomach rubbing against the rough concrete basin. Rick wanted to wince as Martinez used a zip tie to bind Daryl's hands behind his back but he forced himself to remain emotionless. Once he was done, Martinez stepped to the side and grabbed Rick's arm, dragging him over and then making him kneel behind Daryl.

"Not even a minute," said the man that had been with Beth.

"Minute forty five," said a second.

"I'll say one and a half," put in Martinez. "I haven't been wrong yet."

"What about you Rick?" asked the Governor. "How long do you think Daryl can hold his breath for?"

Rick glanced at Daryl and saw his breathing grow deep and shallow. He was trying to clear his lungs out and get as much air in as he could before it'd all be taken away from him.

"He'll hold it for as long as you make me hold him under," answered Rick coldly.

"Good answer," chuckled the Governor. "Go ahead and start."

Rick placed an unsteady hand on Daryl's torn back and tried not to aggravate the skin as he increased the pressure there and guided Daryl down to the water. Both men took in a breath at the same time; Daryl's rippling the water slightly. Rick both watched and felt Daryl exhale then draw in one final breath. His back swelled meaning his lungs were full and as gently as he could took hold of Daryl's neck and pushed his entire head under the water.

"One…two…three…" one of the men began to count eliciting numerous counts of laughter from the others. They didn't care that a man was beginning to drown in front of them.

Rick ignored them the best he could and focused his attention on Daryl. Deep down though, he was counting each second that sapped the precious oxygen from Daryl's lungs.

"I wonder how he's feeling right now?" asked the Governor with a nod towards Daryl. "How long do you think it will take before he hates you for doing this to him?"

Rick ignored him too and continued to watch Daryl's back. They were somewhere at around thirty seconds, well within the time a healthy man could hold his breath for. Everything on Daryl was still though, even the water had stopped lapping at the edges of the trough from when it had been initially disturbed. Then Daryl's fingers began to twist anxiously and Rick noticed the first sign that he was beginning to lose it. He increased his hold on Daryl's neck when he saw his arms tensed and the action rippled into his powerful shoulders.

"Not yet," instructed the Governor. "Keep going."

Under him, Daryl's back jerked suddenly and the strength of it nearly caught Rick unprepared. A subtle scowl danced across Rick's brow and he pushed down on Daryl harder. He scooted in closer just as Daryl kicked one of his legs back in a sad attempt at forcing Rick off him. The kick mostly missed him and Rick closed the distance between them so he was pressed right against Daryl's lower back pinning him to the water trough. He had to keep Daryl under the water until the Governor said it was ok to bring him up. Otherwise Rick guessed there would be more trouble, especially if he was considering bringing Beth into the mix.

"Minute fifteen," someone said though to Rick it felt like an entire hour of hell.

He was drowning Daryl. There was no guarantee the Governor would tell him to bring Daryl up and he could die right there in his arms. And it would be his fault. He was the one doing this. It wasn't something he was unfamiliar with either, the feeling of drowning. Rick recalled an old memory of a time he and Shane would see how long they could hold their breaths for. He remembered that at first the need for air started off as just a nagging itch but would turn into a persistent burn as the body craved oxygen. That he just wanted to take a breath but had to tell himself no and then the urge to breathe won and Rick would rise out of the water. He'd breath in deeply as Shane would shoot up beside with the gloating smile of a winner.

"Minute and a half," said the voice of the earlier man.

Perhaps Daryl heard the man because he legitimately began to fight with Rick. He pushed and pulled trying to escape in any way possible. Water rocked over the sides of the trough and doused Rick and the Governor's boots. Rick could feel Daryl pulsing as he tried to raise his head out of the water.

"Not yet," drawled the Governor while his eye drank in the sight of Daryl fighting against Rick and Rick struggling to control Daryl.

"I thought you didn't want him to die," said Rick.

"He won't," said the Governor smugly.

Rick's heart raced knowing Daryl was out of air. He was fighting because he had to. Daryl hadn't fought him yet; not through the belting and not through the knife. This though was his body telling him he had to fight.

Another second crawled by and the thrashing Daryl was doing began to lessen. He was no longer pushing against Rick and his muscles relaxed.

"Up," said the Governor quickly. He'd hardly said the word before Rick jerked Daryl's head out of the water. Daryl's mouth dropped open and he gasped for his first breath in almost two minutes. His chest quivered as he took in rapid, shallow breaths. He leaned into Rick with his head sagging onto his shoulder. Water dripped from his head and washed the blood from his back down onto Rick, staining his shirt.

"That was pretty good. I wonder how long you can last this time," said the Governor with mild wonder. "Again."

"But—" began Rick.

"I said again," growled the Governor. "_Now_."

Before Daryl had a chance to regain his breath, Rick thrust his head back under the water. Daryl was relatively calm at first but within a few seconds was fighting back against Rick. Rick could feel him shaking and thought that perhaps he didn't get to hold his breath and was choking on the water. There was substantially less energy put into his second round of resistance and then it all trailed off.

"Up," said the Governor when hardly a minute had passed.

Rick dragged Daryl out of the water where he immediately collapsed into a coughing fit. Water spurted from his mouth and he doubled over as he attempted to clear his lungs.

"What happened there Daryl?" asked the Governor. Daryl coughed again and then moaned. "Come again?"

"Go—go to hell," whispered Daryl, his voice strained.

"Still able to talk, huh? Again Rick," said the Governor. Rick hesitated for the briefest of moments then the Governor tapped his gun and Rick got the message. Daryl's head went under for a third time and Rick hated himself for it.

Daryl resisted him from almost the start but Rick noticed it was nowhere near as strong as the first two times. "Up," ordered the Governor after thirty seconds. Daryl moaned then broke into coughing as soon as his head was pulled from the water.

"Again," ordered the Governor and the process was repeated.

Over and over Rick was forced to hold Daryl underwater until he began to still and the Governor was satisfied. Daryl would only be given a slight reprieve at the surface before being thrust in again and the oxygen stolen out of his deprived lungs. Rick was exhausted by it all and was amazed that Daryl had been able to hang on. He hoped the man would give in and just allow himself to pass out. Even if he wasn't unconscious for long, it would be long enough for him to catch his breath and maybe get the Governor to find a new means of torment.

"Twenty seconds," said Martinez as Daryl was brought up again. "That sucked."

Daryl rolled back onto Rick, a wet cough escaping between his trembling lips. The Governor bent down and pulled Daryl's face over to inspect it. "I think he can go a few more rounds," he said after his quick assessment. "_Again_."

Rick used a second to glare up at the Governor and steadied himself behind Daryl. He planted a firm grip on Daryl's neck while the other hand crossed his back and onto his shoulder.

"I'm going to get you out of this," he said softly so that only Daryl would hear. Daryl swallowed and nodded just before his head was guided back down into the trough.

It all went as it had before: Rick cringing silently, Daryl splashing about until he was drained of energy and then he'd relax as he lost the fight. The Governor smiling down on it in his twisted way. The guards sharing bets on how long Daryl could last. Beth and Carl watching wide-eyed as they swore Rick would eventually raise Daryl up but he'd be dead. Rick was done with it though and something in him snapped.

He had beaten Daryl with a leather belt and then laid into him with a serrated knife. Now he was being forced to drown him. Slowly but surely, Daryl was dying. Maybe he could go on if he was given more time between rounds; a few seconds wasn't going to do it. Or if the Governor called it to an end, there had to be another sinister act lined up to follow. The things Rick had to do were getting progressively worse and he couldn't bring himself to think of what might come next.

"_End it…end it for him_," Rick thought quietly. "_He's going to make you kill him eventually; do it now so he suffers less_."

With that, Rick moved his hand from the back of Daryl's neck and closed it over his throat. He squeezed hard and he saw bubbles rise to the surface as he forced Daryl's final breath out. Daryl shook and convulsed as he threw everything he had into fighting Rick off. He was no match though and Rick won out easily.

"Sixteen seconds…yeah he definitely can't take much more," said Martinez.

"I want two more rounds," said the Governor. "Bring him up Rick."

Rick swallowed and fixed his eyes on Daryl, his hands still holding him down. Another second went by and Daryl stopped moving.

"I said bring him up."

Rick ignored the Governor and instead felt the tension in Daryl's body slip away. His muscles relaxed and Rick was able to hold him under with very little effort. A final set of bubbles broke at the surface and Daryl's head sank deeper into the trough.

"_What the hell do you think you're doing_?"

"_He's drowning him_!"

"_Get him up—now_!"

The voices around him meant nothing to Rick. He moved his fingers on Daryl's throat enough to feel for a pulse and wasn't sure there was one. He sighed and was momentarily relieved until Martinez crashed into him and threw him away. The other man hauled Daryl out of the water and laid him on the ground. His hands were on Daryl's neck and chest, feeling for signs of life.

"He's not breathing," said Martinez, rolling Daryl onto his side.

The Governor descended on the scene and repeated what Martinez had done.

"You better pray he isn't dead," he told Rick, "or both of your children are going to pay."

Daryl indeed looked dead. His oxygen starved lips had turned blue and his face had paled significantly, nor did his chest rise and fall bringing life into him.

"I got this," said Martinez as he took a step back. He swiftly kicked Daryl in the center of his chest that turned him onto his back. The kick landed hard and it had its desired effect. On his back, Daryl coughed weakly and Martinez helped to sit him up. With each cough, water droplets were propelled from his mouth and he gulped for air. Daryl's eyes fluttered opened and searched for Rick.

"You're going to pay for that one," said the Governor. "I told you he isn't allowed to die until I say so."

"Go ahead and kill me—I don't care," said Rick.

"No, it won't be that. But I don't know what to do with you right now. I think you need some time to think about what you did. Take him to the cabin." The Governor motioned for his men to seize Rick and he was hauled out of the corral.

"No!" he shouted and pulled against the two men restraining him. "Daryl!"

"Don't you worry…I'll take care of him," called the Governor with a twist of his lips.

Rick fought as long as he could and was eventually forced into the cabin and to a small room. "Put him here," said Martinez as he pulled a chair up near a window. Rick was pressed down into it and his arms were immediately bound behind the chair and his legs were tied also.

"Where's Daryl?" he demanded.

"Sorry, you're in timeout…no Daryl. But—" said Martinez as he checked out the window, "it looks like you'll have a good view of the Governor playing with him." He then shrugged absently and motioned for the other guards. "Have fun," he tossed over his shoulder and then Rick was left alone.

As soon as he could, Rick was gazing out the window and searching for Daryl. It wasn't long before he saw him being half dragged into view by the Governor. He raised Daryl and leaned him against the corral's fence then cut his hands free. Rick watched Daryl rub at his wrists then the Governor was on him again. He saw the Governor take additional zip ties out of his pocket and began to retie Daryl's hands to one of the fence posts. When he was done, the Governor stepped back to admire his work. Rick could tell Daryl wasn't very steady on his feet and he had to lean into the fence post, the wood digging into his injured back. The Governor must've been satisfied with himself for he turned from Daryl and left him out to dry under the hot Georgia sun.

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_I swear I'm not a crazy person. I only torture fictional characters. Been a rough summer and I had to take it out somewhere. Sorry Daryl *shrugs*. And for the one in a I-have-a-better-chance-of-being-struck-by-lightnin g-while-riding-a-shark chance that Norman Reedus ever sees this, I think you're awesome and would never actually do any of that stuff to you. Well...naw...Wouldn't mind seeing Daryl get tossed around a bit in the show though. Happy and healthy characters are boring. Just don't die or the writers and Kirkman need to go hide under a rock in Middle Earth with the Avengers guarding them. Thanks!_


	45. Pour Salt On It

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: Rated M. Torture. Duh.**

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_This update was long overdue, and I apologize. I want to thank everyone that has stuck with the story and to those that have encouraged me to stick with it as well. Therm, Candra, Peachuzoid, Silver Dog Demon, Youde123...y'all have been great (plus veritas vamp if she ever shows). I don't know how y'all will feel about this chapter and truthfully, I was pretty drunk while writing it so take that into account before ya destroy me for it._

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There had been water, then nothing, then he was back again.

Daryl squeezed out another breath that he wasn't sure he was thankful for. He knew he was standing, or at least leaning against something that he hands were tied to, but his world was tilting. Everything pitched to the side and Daryl recognized he was falling.

"_Shit_," he rasped when his wrists caught on the fence post, the only thing preventing him from hitting the ground. The strain should have aggravated his injuries and caused more pain, but it didn't register with Daryl. The Governor's—Rick's torture, had drained him of all energy and the pain had bled together until it was just another memory Daryl would block out and throw away. He was fully aware that he wasn't meant to survive this and dwelling on it would only intensify his misery. Instead he attempted to focus on the life he was trying to give Judith.

Daryl allowed his mind to drift from his current image of Lil' Ass Kicker to her as a toddler, then a healthy and happy child, a teenager with a few problems of her own, then as a full grown and thriving Ass Kicker. He smiled briefly at the image of her one day wielding a crossbow of her own, maybe his if it was cared for properly. She'd never know him, but to Daryl that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Rick would find a way to kill the Governor and get her and Carl back and he'd have a chance to raise his kids the right way. She'd get to grow up with her father and brother and a family of survivors that would love her and teach her how to _survive_. She'd be part of the generation that would beat the shitty world they lived in. Daryl hoped that when it all fell into place, she'd find a guy that was right for her. He'd be strong, courageous, wise beyond his years, but more importantly cherish her like the way a man in the desert brings water to his lips.

Lil'…Judith would be beautiful like her mother but have a heart of gold like her father, and perhaps that would be her only fault. She'd survived so much already, there wasn't any reason why she couldn't survive to die an old and grey woman that had so many grandkids that she lost count of them all. That was what Daryl wished for: To give Judith the life he never had. He wanted her to always be surrounded by people that loved her and put her first every morning that they woke up. He never wanted her to hear a cruel word or have a fist raised against her. To have her innocence tainted at such a young age and never get that back. He had survived it all—apocalypse or not—but honestly, Daryl was tired of fighting every damn day of his life. He didn't want her to share in that fight.

"_For Judith_," was his silent battle cry every time Rick laid into him with the belt. Daryl put it into his mind that as a father, Rick was doing whatever he had to to ensure his daughter's survival, though Daryl couldn't forget that it was what _he_ wanted.

He didn't want the pain, but he wanted Judith to live and he couldn't have one without the other. The pain that was with him as his back was whipped until it was beyond raw. Then there was the knife that he ultimately forced Rick to cut him with. Every time it passed through his skin, Daryl swore he was only a second away from losing it and he did everything he could to hold it in. Rick needed him to be strong. If Rick lost his drive and could no longer torture him, Judith was as good as dead.

Daryl stood as still as possible while he waited for whatever came next whether it was more torture or a bullet to the head. The pain in his back flared up with each twitch he made: his fried nerves sending jolts of agony around his body with every breath. It'd start on one cut and the pain would rise to a level that was almost unbearable then as he became used to it, the next cut would begin to blaze. He leaned farther into the post, his shoulders slumping forward. The position was better for his back but as he moved, Daryl felt something shift in his chest and an entirely new pain stole his breath. When Daryl forced himself to open his eyes and look down, he saw a large bruise centered over his chest. He had no memory of how he got it or who gave it to him. His best guess was that he must've passed out in the water and someone had kicked him to get him to breathe again. By process of elimination he decided it was Martinez.

Daryl tested his chest again and tried to draw in a deep breath but couldn't beat the pain it caused as his lungs filled and pressed on his ribs. He knew at least one was broken but it wouldn't surprise him if a second one was as well. It was just something else to add to the list. He had to watch his back and couldn't lay on it or lean directly against anything with it. Then there was the stab in his shoulder that made it beyond use. Now he couldn't breathe right.

"Ya've had worse," Daryl said quietly though it was quickly becoming a lie. Even in his father's worst rages, he was usually able to escape or crawl under a bed and hide until the man lost interest. He was beginning to slip into uncharted territory and soon, and he hated to admit it, the Governor would get what he wanted: to see Daryl break.

Daryl was lost in his thoughts and jumped when a hand clasped his shoulder. There was a breath in his ear that was rank with the husky undertones of whiskey. He hadn't heard the approach of the Governor and Daryl tried to not give away that he was bothered by it. The Governor's firm hand traveled from Daryl's shoulder to wrap around his bicep. Daryl didn't possess the energy to shake him off and yielded to his intruding nature.

"Not much gets to you, does it?" asked the Governor.

Daryl resisted the urge to throw out something smart and remained silent.

"But there were a few things that _have_ bothered you," said the Governor thoughtfully. "You don't like it when I threaten Judith…or if I was to let my men have Beth…_or_…" The Governor's hand moved from Daryl's arm to his bruised chest and then settled on the front of his pants. Daryl pushed away from the touch but unfortunately it meant pressing back into the man behind him and he tried not to think about what he felt there.

"Yer sick," snarled Daryl.

"Aren't we all? Beth _is_ very pretty…"

Daryl dropped his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I told ya: ya can do whatever ya want to me…just leave the girls outta it."

"I still find it funny that you think you're in a position to tell me what to do. I can do whatever I want to any of you, whenever I want to. I'll start with Beth once you're dead. Or maybe before. Maybe I'll have that be the last thing you see and you'll die knowing you failed her," said the Governor.

"Ya ain't gonna do that," said Daryl.

"No? And how are you going to stop me? You're weak. You always have been and will be until you take your final breath. How else do you think you got all those scars? You couldn't fight your father off: you let him do that to you. I bet you cried and tried to hide from him like the scared and pathetic waste of space that you are. '_Please stop…don't hurt me daddy_…'" mocked the Governor. Daryl flinched and the Governor smiled.

"He did do a good job with you…" said the Governor as he found one of Daryl's scars on his lower back and dug his fingernail in. "This one looks like a burn. Let me guess: he held you down and put out a pack of cigarettes on you. And you couldn't push him off. You tried to fight him but you failed. Like with Rick. You're not strong at all: some scrawny sheriff was almost able to drown you."

"Ya…ya made him do that," said Daryl softly.

"Don't change the subject," snapped the Governor and he hit the side of Daryl's head. "You think you're being a hero by holding it all in, that your strength will get you through, but it won't. I was watching you out here shaking and moaning every time you felt the slightest breeze on your back. I own you: you are nothing. Just like how your father owned you when big brother Merle wasn't around to take the beating for you."

"Ya…ya don't know shit," said Daryl, his voice cracking.

"No?" questioned the Governor. "I saw his scars too. Although he had fewer than you. I guess he was better at defending himself than you were. Your father found it was easier to go after the weaker one and picked _you_. How's that make you feel?"

The Governor raised his hand to strike Daryl again and Daryl, feeling the shadow over his face, turned his head to the side to avoid the hit. He waited but the hit never came. He slowly relaxed and opened his eyes when he heard the Governor's quiet laughter.

"See? You _are_ weak. There's no big brother around to protect you now. I killed him, but I guess you already knew that. Do you want to know how he died?"

Daryl cringed and the Governor continued.

"We found him hiding in a barn and I beat him." Without warning, the Governor punched Daryl's lower back sending Daryl into a painful arch that he couldn't help but groan from. "Then I bit his fingers off. Just like this…" The Governor leaned over to where Daryl's hands were tied and took two of his fingers in his mouth. Daryl felt the Governor begin to bite down and jerked his hand as far back as his ties would allow. His fingers scraped along the Governor's teeth leaving behind deep red lines that had nearly broken through the skin.

"Look like you've got a little fight left in you," the Governor said through a tense smile. "Merle had a little left in him too at the very end. I bet you would like to know what his last words were, wouldn't you?"

Daryl stood frozen and panting. He always wondered what Merle said just before he died. It wouldn't make a difference but it would give him that last ounce of closure he never got.

"He said 'I ain't gonna beg you.' He couldn't beg me for his life, but I'm guessing you will before it's all said and done. You are the weaker brother after all. I bet Rick wishes you had been the one to die and Merle had lived. Rick and Merle would've been able to kill me, I'll admit that. But you and Rick…well, we know how that has turned out," said the Governor.

"Go to hell," whispered Daryl.

"That's not very polite especially when I brought you a surprise," said the Governor, digging into one of his pockets. Daryl couldn't turn far enough to see what the man was referring to but trusted it wasn't going to be a good surprise. Daryl closed his eyes in preparation for whatever was about to come and felt the bandage on his stab being pulled off. He hissed as air hit the wound and struggled to control his breathing. The Governor parted the edges of the wound and then dipped his finger inside. Daryl groaned, his knees becoming weak. The Governor began to circle his finger wetting it with Daryl's blood. He then withdrew it and Daryl held his breath.

The pain Daryl experienced next was like nothing he'd ever felt before. The Governor thrust his finger back into Daryl's stab wound making him throw himself in any direction that would get him away from the pain. The Governor held onto him though and followed him as he thrashed against the fence.

"What's wrong?" asked the Governor with fake concern. "It's just a little salt." He moved his finger around again making sure the salt rubbed against the inside of Daryl's shoulder

Daryl's eyes flew open although he couldn't put together a coherent image and was blinded by the white-hot pain. His teeth chattered as he tried not to cry out. He wanted to. He wanted to just give in and let the Governor have his way.

"_Stick it out for Judith,_" a small and forgotten part of his mind spoke to him. "_This is for her. Don't give in now._"

"Go…ya—ya can go fuck yerself…" Daryl gasped.

The Governor removed his finger and the pain in Daryl's shoulder decreased an infinitesimal amount. Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl saw the man re-coat his finger in a grainy, white substance and then a hand was on his back. The same draining pain in his shoulder then hit him as the Governor pressed into one of the cuts along his spine. Daryl's heart fluttered as the only thing that mattered was getting away from the salt on his wounds. The Governor was relentless and drug his finger through one of the cuts and into another only spreading the misery. Daryl's world shook and he felt himself sinking before another hand was on him and steadying him.

"Hold him," the Governor ordered someone on Daryl's left. "He's really going to feel this one."

Two hands then pushed Daryl back into the fence post but it hardly registered with him. He heard the sound of a knife being drawn and then the coolness of the blade as it was pressed into his wound. It was first rocked back and forth then twisted insuring his injury was completely reopened.

"Got him?"

"Got him," echoed Martinez.

The Governor reached into his pocket and pulled out a container of salt. He opened the lid and allowed it to hover over Daryl's shoulder. He smiled then tipped it over. The grains fell into Daryl's wound and almost sizzled on his raw flesh. Martinez braced himself but was still barely able to contain Daryl's outburst. The Governor added his free hand to the mix and combined, the two were able to keep Daryl from wriggling free. More salt was poured in until the wound was filled and disorientated by the pain, Daryl cried out loud for a second time.

"Keep holding him," the Governor told Martinez. He reached into a second pocket and took out a fresh bandage. He pulled the backing off, sprinkled another round of salt on it, then adhered it to Daryl's shoulder with the salt still in it. He pressed his hands to either side of Daryl, rubbing and grinding the salt in deeper. Daryl thrashed once more with a broken shot and then it ended. He panted heavily for a moment before his eyes rolled up into his head and his legs went out from under. He began to drop to the ground, his weight pulling against his wrists that were still tied to the top of the fence post. The Governor used the knife to break the zip ties and Daryl slumped down. Martinez was on him checking his pulse and breathing before nodding back up to his boss.

"When he comes to, which I don't think will be very soon, move him back into the barn. Rick will have some more fun with him tonight," the Governor said with a glance back towards the cabin. He waved once at the wide-eyed Rick and sauntered off.

* * *

_Thank you for the reviews I've gotten, I enjoy reading all of them. As torture goes, I didn't think this chapter was that bad and I think we all (me, you, and Daryl) needed a bit of a break. Break is over next chapter though. Was kinda nice to see his side of things for a moment. Thanks again guys._


	46. Carry On My Wayward Son

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS:** Rated M for language, violence, and gore.

* * *

_Yes this update is extremely overdue. Yes this chapter is extremely intense. Sorry I didn't have much time to proofread this so I hope it's decent enough. Now, I'm not the type to normally give song recommendations but for some reason, "Carry On My Wayward Son" seems rather appropriate here. Dual meaning. *ahem*_

* * *

"I thought you said you were going to do something!" cried Beth.

Carl stared back at her, his eyes full of silent misery. They both watched out one of the windows as the Governor attacked Daryl to the point that the man left him unconscious in the dirt.

"I—I want to but…he keeps threatening to hurt you and Judith," he said lowly. "I don't know what to do anymore."

Beth sat down with her back against one of the walls. "Can you make a run for it if I stay with Judith?" she asked.

"No," said Carl, crossing to her. "I'm not leaving you here with _him_…"

"But Daryl will die if we don't do something."

Carl sat next to Beth and slipped his hand into hers. "I know but the Governor…he's really dangerous and I don't want anything to happen to you or Judith. If he thinks I'm not really on his side, I don't know what he'll do. And my dad…I want him to live too. I don't want any of us to die," said Carl.

Beth sighed and rested her head against Carl's shoulder. "What if he never lets us go, what do we do then?"

Carl looked down at his hands, unsure of himself for more than the first time since being captured.

"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," he offered Beth. "But as long as I'm alive, he's not going to touch you, understand?"

Beth nodded.

"Good," said Carl sternly. "I'll think of something."

* * *

Rick watched the shadows shift but still had no idea what time it was or how long Daryl roasted under the sun for. Martinez stood guard by him until it appeared like he got either bored or hot and walked back to the cabin, leaving the other unattended. Rick prayed over and over that Daryl would wake and be able to escape. Surely the blame would then befall Martinez and perhaps the Governor would choose not to pursue Daryl, allowing him to return to the prison. But no matter how many times Rick willed Daryl to stand, he didn't. Rick had seen the Governor hurt Daryl, and worse, heard Daryl's scream of agony, but didn't know the extent of damage that had been done. For Daryl to be out like he was, it had been bad. Or maybe he was only playing possum and was resting to save his energy for later.

Rick shook his head: no, Daryl was in bad shape. Despite his best efforts, the Governor was beating him. He was right when he warned Daryl he wouldn't survive.

"_Idiot_," whispered Rick. "You're such a damn idiot Daryl. It wasn't supposed to be like this."

Perhaps Daryl had heard Rick for as soon as Rick bowed his head in defeat, Daryl picked his up. Rick noticed the small movement out the window as Daryl stirred. He wasn't the only one watching though and as soon as Daryl clung to the fence post and pulled himself up, Martinez and another man were right there with him. Something was said between the three and then the second man waved a gun back towards the cabin. Almost immediately, Daryl dropped his head and then started to stumble towards the barn. He had one hand pressed against the bandage on his shoulder while his other clutched at his chest.

"We had a nice chat earlier, I think you got to hear some of it," the Governor said from behind Rick startling him some. "I hope you're ready for round three because he's not."

Rick felt a mild tug as his wrists were cut free. He nearly jumped up from the chair he'd been tied to all afternoon.

"Eager—I like that," noted the Governor. "Hopefully that enthusiasm translates well to other things. This way please."

The Governor motioned for Rick to follow him. He trailed after the man and outside of the room, picked up an escort of three additional guards that had been waiting by the door. Down a small hall, he saw another door opening and Carl, Beth, and Judith were ushered out. Carl and Rick looked at each other briefly before Rick broke the contact and stared absently at the back of the Governor's head. The group walked quietly except for the Governor who whistled a tune Rick couldn't quite place. They reentered the barn and Rick spotted Daryl sitting with his back against one of the support beams.

The Governor pointed towards Daryl. "Cruel, isn't it Rick? That death wouldn't take him? It's a shame he hasn't died because now he has to live through another round of your torture. What will you do to him next? Burn him, cut him, peel the skin from his bones?" mocked the Governor. Several of the men laughed but Rick set his jaw and looked at Daryl who had his eyes closed.

"Ready for another round?" the Governor asked loud enough for all to hear though it was directed mainly to Daryl. Daryl gave no answer which made Martinez step over to examine him.

"He's out again…" he said after prodding Daryl's arm.

"Well then I guess _you_ better wake him up," the Governor said to Rick.

Rick sighed, his mouth twitching slightly. He stepped towards Daryl and then knelt to be down at his level.

"We don't have all day Rick. Or actually, I suppose we do. I don't care how long it takes; I want to hear him beg you to stop. Now, if you would…" The Governor motioned to Daryl again and Rick knew his friend would only have a few more seconds of a pain free existence.

Daryl's chest quivered with every breath like his battered ribs were causing him extreme pain even in his sleep. Rick extended a shaking hand and rested it on Daryl's sunburned arm. "Daryl, Daryl…" he whispered. "I'm sorry but you have to wake up now."

Daryl remained unresponsive and Rick shook his arm.

"Daryl, can you hear me?" asked Rick. "Daryl?"

"I'm getting bored Rick," announced the Governor. "Surely you don't want anything to happen to Beth or Judith now, do you?"

Rick's throat tightened at the thought of having to do the same to one of the girls. He closed his eyes and pressed his thump into the center of the bandage on Daryl's shoulder. Daryl's back immediately arched and he tried to pull away from Rick's hand, but his eyes remained shut. Rick dug his thumb in deeper and then pressed it against the side of the wound as best he could. Daryl's eyes jerked open and a spasm rocked his upper body.

"_Rick_," he gasped, a hand coming up to stop the other man.

Rick stepped back leaving Daryl panting alone.

"Good," said the Governor. "But this won't work: he could escape if he's not tied up."

One of the other men jumped into action and began hunting around for another piece of rope. He soon found one and brought it to the Governor who studied it in his hands. "No…no that's too easy…something else…" the Governor said as the rope fell through his fingers.

All eyes except for Daryl were on the Governor as he searched the barn for something. He returned shortly and set an old metal toolbox on the table and opened it. He turned sharply to look at Rick and then down to Daryl.

"Yes…this is _much_ better," he said and raised a hammer.

There was a small whimper that Rick first guessed was from Daryl but then turned to see Beth attempting to cower away into the shadows. Carl watched her but stood frozen and helpless. Martinez heard her as well and was by her side with a firm hand on her shoulder. He whispered something in her ear and then stepped in front of her, obscuring her view of Daryl.

"_Thank you_" Rick mouthed back to Martinez who nodded once in acknowledgment. Beth didn't need to see any more. Being physically present was bad enough.

"Ready?" asked the Governor, bringing Rick's attention back to him. "I found something better than rope to keep Daryl from going anywhere." He offered Rick the hammer and almost hesitantly, Rick accepted it. But the Governor wasn't done and he held out his left hand. He opened it to reveal half a dozen nails.

The Governor transferred the nails from his hand to Rick's. He took Rick's arm and guided him over to Daryl. Rick followed the Governor's lead and knelt. Daryl opened his eyes as the presence of more pain loomed over him.

"Looks kind of scared doesn't he?" the Governor asked, pulling a chunk of Daryl's hair back to better look him in the eyes. "He looks weak."

"_He's not weak_," Rick wanted to say but didn't. Daryl was being the strongest and bravest man he'd ever known. He was taking so much to save a baby that wasn't even his. The sacrifice he was making nearly broke Rick's heart. He wished it be over soon and was to the point that he'd do whatever it took to end it for Daryl. The sooner Daryl's death came, the better.

"Sure," said Rick, answering the Governor's previous question.

"Tell _him_ that," said the Governor.

"You're weak. You always have been…we could have done just fine without you," said Rick automatically without a sincere note in his voice.

Daryl swallowed and lowered his head.

"Going to cry now?" taunted the Governor. "Merle never cried."

"I ain't Merle," whispered Daryl.

"That's right: you're not. I bet Merle wouldn't make a sound if someone were to pound a nail into his leg." The Governor then removed Daryl's right boot, exposing his pale foot. He tapped the top of Daryl's foot with his finger. "_Nail_," he said, his voice sounding more like an order.

Rick took one of the nails and placed the tip in the center of Daryl's foot. The Governor pressed against Daryl's leg as Rick lined up the shot. Rick gripped the nail between the shaking fingers on his left hand while he raised the hammer with his right. He said a silent apology and brought the hammer down to meet the nail.

A fraction of the nail disappeared into Daryl's foot and if it hadn't been for the Governor putting all his weight into holding Daryl down, he would have jerked free. He moaned and twisted as Rick struck down a second time, driving the nail in deeper. The third hit forced it in halfway and it no longer needed Rick to keep it steady. Rick used his now free hand to spread Daryl's foot out and lined up the fourth strike. The hammer hit the nail's head and drove it flush against Daryl's skin.

Rick did a cursory swipe across the bottom of Daryl's foot and felt the bloodied, sharp tip of the nail protruding from it. He released Daryl's foot and watched as his toes twitched while blood ran between them.

"One down, five to go," said the Governor. He took a second nail and placed it against Daryl's shin.

* * *

Rick was thankful he couldn't see the damage he was doing. He heard it though. Daryl shouted and swore and was having to be restrained by two additional men by the time the Governor was satisfied with the placement of the nails: one in his foot, one in his shin, another in his calf, the other three pierced his thigh.

"I think we have time for one more," said the Governor, drawing a final nail out of his pocket.

"_No_," choked Daryl breathlessly. "No…don't…"

The Governor raised both eyebrows.

"Oh, what's this? Had enough?" he asked. Daryl nodded feebly. "Well since you asked so politely…"

The Governor placed the seventh nail directly above Daryl's knee and glanced at Rick. Rick put as little thought into it as he could and swung the hammer down with the greatest force yet. In two strikes the nail was buried deep within Daryl's leg.

"Stop!" Daryl cried, his hand clawing involuntarily at his newest injury.

The Governor rose from Daryl's side and smiled wickedly. He went to a man standing guard by the door and spoke to him. Rick couldn't hear what was said nor did he particularly care. It was the first he'd been left relatively alone with Daryl and could speak freely with him, even it was only for a moment.

"_Daryl_…" he whispered, taking hold of his hand. He could feel every shiver and tremble that ran through Daryl. "Just…just a little longer. Ok?"

Daryl opened his eyes to nod up to Rick. Rick was disturbed to see the usual fire was gone and replaced by dullness. He was losing Daryl.

"He's going to pay…I'll make him pay for this."

"And for Merle too," murmured Daryl.

"And for Merle too," agreed Rick. "I'll make sure both Dixon brothers are avenged."

"Thanks," Daryl let out with a quivering sigh. "And I'm…I'm sorry for makin' ya do this shit…know ya didn't want to."

"Don't worry about it," said Rick as he checked to see if the Governor was still occupied. "You're a better man than me. I want you to know that. Judith will know what you did for her."

"Naw don't tell her anythin' 'bout this. She don't need to grow up with this on her. Make somethin' up if ya gotta tell her. Say I took a bullet for her or got bit. She doesn't need to know what ya did either."

"Are you sure?" asked Rick.

"Yeah…hell maybe it'd be better if I didn't exist at all," said Daryl. "Might've been better for all of us."

"Hey—knock that shit off," shot Rick, giving Daryl a rough shake.

"Sorry can't help it…been a shitty day," Daryl half chuckled.

"It's almost over," whispered Rick. "He won't make this drag on much longer."

"Hope so," said Daryl just as the Governor ended his conversation and started walking back over. Rick pulled away from Daryl to make it look like they hadn't been talking. The Governor stopped to talk to another man and then was back at the table and leaning against it. The first man he talked to stepped outside and promptly returned with an armful of wood. He set the kindling down in front of the Governor and began to arrange it to build a fire. He flicked a lighter and lit some straw then passed the small flame onto the wood. It caught quickly and the fire soon made those around it uncomfortably warm.

The Governor crouched over the fire, seemingly unaffected by its heat. He worked one of the logs until just an end was all that was left in the fire. After a minute or so, he raised it up with flames still dancing on its tip. Rick knew it was coming to him and held out a hand to accept it.

"You're learning," said the Governor as he handed over the stick. "Stomach."

That one word was enough to make Rick's stomach turn. Daryl closed his eyes again and Rick couldn't help but think he looked like a scared little kid. He was a vulnerable child shying away from something bad.

"I hope you enjoy this," Rick told the Governor, "because I can't wait for _you_ to be on the other end."

Rick and the Governor's gazes met just as Rick pressed the burning stick to Daryl's navel. Rick planted a steady hand on the center of Daryl's chest to hold him down but didn't take his eyes off the Governor. He could feel Daryl's yell reverberate through him and then as it echoed off the walls of the barn.

"Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop…" he pleaded when he could shout no more. The flames on the stick had been extinguished on Daryl leaving behind charred skin that stuck to the stick and peeled off when Rick removed it. "Don't…don't do that again. _Please_."

"Like that?" asked the Governor, snatching the stick back from Rick and putting it back into the fire. Once it was burning again, the Governor removed it and brought it back over to Daryl. Rick went to take it from him but the Governor pushed his hand away. "_My turn_," he said and dug the flaming wood back into the same spot Rick had burned. He covered Daryl's mouth with his free hand and held hard to prevent him from crying out. The Governor rolled the stick over the area again, burning deeper and catching fresh skin. Daryl convulsed, his arms flailing weakly until they dropped uselessly by his sides. The Governor returned the stick to the fire then repeated the process across Daryl's hipbone.

The smell of burning flesh filled the air above the fire. All in attendance turned up their noses. Beth sank to the ground in a fit of tears while Martinez stood torn between comforting her and his duties to the Governor. Carl was transfixed by it all for his own reasons. Rick was reduced to watching the Governor burn Daryl. It angered him to no end that the beast was touching Daryl and hurting him. If anyone was to do that, he was supposed to be him. Rick knew it was payback for himself. The Governor couldn't break his spirit and was taking it out on Daryl. Daryl lost consciousness twice but would be rudely pulled back by the Governor as he pressed the stick down again. When he was aware enough, he'd ask for it to stop but it wouldn't. He stomach was burned until it was a mess of red or blackened skin. If he bled, it wouldn't be for long as the heat would quickly cauterize the area.

"Please—please no more," Daryl begged when the Governor took the stick from the fire again. "Just kill me…I…I can't take it anymore…"

The Governor returned the stick to the fire and snapped his fingers. A man tossed a bucket of water over the fire, putting it out immediately.

"Are you ready to die?" he asked, leaning in to Daryl. Daryl nodded, a tear slipping from the corner of his eye and running down his dirty cheek. "A Dixon that _can_ beg: how fascinating. I wonder what Merle would think of that? I know what he'd say. He'd say to stop being such a bitch. You're an insult to your blood. But since you want to die, do you want me to kill you?"

Daryl shook his head. "_Rick_," he said, his voice cracking.

"Alright, stand him up," the order was issued to the Governor's men and two came forward and grabbed Daryl under his arms. They raised him to his feet and had to take most of his weight. Daryl could hardly keep his head up and Rick hated to see him give up. He reminded himself that every man had a breaking point and his had been reached.

"Well, what are you waiting for Rick—the apocalypse to start? You've got two hands: use them," said the Governor.

Daryl didn't pick his head up and Rick swung for it. His fist connected with Daryl's cheek and threw his head back. He heard a soft groan but other than that, the fight had left Daryl completely. Rick flexed his fingers then clenched them into another fist and swung again. And again. He hit Daryl's head and chest until he felt the skin on his own knuckles split. He was almost certain a finger had broken but it wasn't enough to slow him.

The beating continued as blood dripped steadily out of Daryl's nose and mouth. Rick sensed the Governor was growing impatient and put everything he had into one final punch to hopefully put Daryl out of his misery. He was just about to let it go when another's hand closed around his wrist preventing him from striking.

"Enough," said the Governor. The men holding Daryl released him and he dropped to the floor. Rick's eyes skimmed over him and wasn't relieved to see him still breathing. "This is taking too long. Try this—"

The Governor went to where Martinez had been standing and took his bat from him. He then went into a corner and returned with a couple feet of barbed wire. He stood between Rick and Daryl and wrapped the wire around the bat. When he was done, he handed it over to Rick.

"Finish him."

Rick took the bat and stepped towards Daryl. Daryl looked up at Rick for a final time and nodded with a certain appreciation for the man.

"NO!" shouted Carl, bursting between the two. He held his hands high in front of him to prevent Rick from swinging.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" demanded the Governor.

Carl looked stunned as if he wasn't sure how he got to where he was. He glanced down to Daryl behind him and then back at the Governor.

"You—you said if I wanted to join you that I'd have to prove myself. So let me kill Daryl. I want to do it," said Carl firmly.

"You what?" asked Rick and the Governor.

"I want to kill Daryl. I want to be the one to do it," he repeated back. "Let me prove my allegiance."

The Governor stroked his chin in thought and then shrugged. "Makes no difference to me which Grimes kills that trailer trash. Give him the bat Rick," he finally decided.

Before Rick could react, Carl stole the bat right out of his hands. He closed the distance between him and Daryl and pointed the bat at him. Carl dipped his head just the smallest amount in a brief nod that Daryl was barely able to return. A second later, Carl swung and caught Daryl's left shoulder knocking him onto his side. He tore the bat back bringing with it small pieces out of Daryl's skin. He sent another hit across Daryl's back and then his shoulder. Daryl twitched like he was going to try to lift himself off the ground but Carl killed that action with a well placed shot to the side of Daryl's head and he stopped moving.

"No…" said Rick in disbelief as the hit rolled Daryl onto his back and he didn't come out of it. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. He wouldn't believe it. Daryl was supposed to die, but not by Daryl's hand. Carl bit his lip and swung for Daryl's chest and connected over his bruised ribs. Rick fell to his knees with the sound of Daryl's body being broken. His own son was killing his best friend. Whatever relief he thought he'd get from knowing Daryl was finally free from all his misery was not there. There were years of abuse and neglect, living a hard life with Merle, then the apocalypse-it was all coming to an end for Daryl. Daryl would finally be at peace but Rick couldn't take comfort in it.

"Save your energy kid…you're beating a dead man more than he needs to be," said one of the Governor's men. Carl looked briefly up at the man and the hit missed relatively so and landed on Daryl's leg.

"_Is_ he dead?" asked the Governor from behind Rick. "Check him."

Carl crouched down over Daryl and put a hand to his neck. The hand then moved down to Daryl's chest then back up to his neck. Carl stood and then turned back to face the Governor. He smiled then held the bat back out for the Governor.

"Good," said the man. "You're free to go back to the cabin."

Carl nodded and was allowed to walk out the barn.

"No—_no!_" cried Rick from the ground. "Carl…Daryl—no!"

"Don't worry," said the Governor, "you'll see Daryl again: I'll let him turn then release him back into the woods for you to find. Then you'll get the chance to kill him all over again."

"I'll fucking kill you!" roared Rick.

The Governor merely laughed and stepped back to allow Martinez to handle Rick.

"I hope you didn't forget about our deal…one of you lived so now you have to return to the prison and get them ready to leave. And don't forget to leave Michonne for me. Have a nice evening Rick."

The Governor waved once back at Rick and then exited with a guiding hand placed on Beth's shoulder. Rick rushed after him but was stopped by Martinez.

"Don't make this any more difficult than it needs to be," said Martinez.

"I don't care what you did for Beth—you're dead too," hissed Rick. "I'm going to kill all of you."

"Hey, you think I wanted that shit to happen? Fuck no. Daryl and I were square. Now look, my orders are to take you out into the woods and to release you without a single weapon so that you get bit and stumble back to the prison half-turned. But I'm not real happy with management right now so here—"

Martinez took a knife off his belt and presented it to Rick.

"It was his," he said with a nod to Daryl's body. "Hopefully you get a chance to even things out with it."

Rick wanted to thank the man for the small gesture but never had the chance. Just as he opened his mouth something crashed into the back of his head and he fell forward. The last thing he saw was Daryl's bloody form in front of him and then everything was gone.

TBC...

* * *

_So, how was it? Do I need to hide? Oh...nope, never mind. You'll just have to wait for the next update._


	47. The Hero

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS:** Rated M for language, violence, and gore.

Thank you all so much for the wonderful reviews and almost to 100 followers-woohoo! I hope this chapter came fast enough and that you all enjoy it! Thank you again!

* * *

Having walked out of the barn ahead of his father's cries, Carl returned quickly to his and Beth's room in the cabin. He closed the door and sat down on the bed. He heard the shouting from the barn come to an end and then the door opening again. Beth and Judith were pushed inside, both with teary eyes. The guard looked all three up and down, then left without another word.

Carl cleared his throat. "Are you ok?" he asked solemnly.

"How could you!" shrieked Beth. She raced to the crib to lay Judith down and then was hitting every inch of Carl she could reach.

Carl covered his head to protect himself as Beth's frenzied blows landed haphazardly about him. They weren't terribly painful, and nothing compared to what they had witnessed moments before between Rick and Daryl, but they still stung in their own way.

"You said you were going to do something! You said you were going to save him!" she cried and struck Carl again.

"Beth—"

"You're a monster; you're nothing better than _him_!" she snarled and shoved Carl away. She wiped her nose then began her assault again. "You killed Daryl. You're a murderer! I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!"

Beth shouted once more then collapsed into a crying fit on the floor. Carl stayed back to watch her sob.

"I'm sorry," he stated simply.

"You're not sorry…you never were. It was all a lie," said Beth, hissing.

Carl blanched.

"You don't understand…" He reached out a shaking for Beth but withdrew it as her sweet face darkened.

"Of course I do! You wanted to kill Daryl and you got to. He saved your life and you killed him for breaking your nose back in the woods. What the hell is wrong with you Carl?"

"I—" began Carl but stopped when the door was thrown open.

"The Governor wants to talk to you," said the guard, stepping into the room.

Carl hesitated and looked to Beth.

"What are you waiting for? You're new leader is waiting for you," she said turning from the boy. "_Go_."

"Beth…" he tried but she was having none of it. She gave him a cold shoulder and started tending to Judith.

Seeing the fight was lost, Carl lowered his head and followed after the man. He was led into the Governor's office who was already seated and waiting for him behind his desk. The man motioned for Carl to take a seat and he did.

The Governor waited for the guard to leave and then rummaged in his desk. Upon it he set a bottle of whiskey and two glasses. He unscrewed the bottle and poured the caramel colored liquid equally in the two glasses.

"That was a man's job you did today," the Governor said, setting a glass in front of Carl. "You deserve to drink like one."

Carl looked down at the drink and picked it up. He raised it to his lips and took a sip. It was horrid but he forced himself to act like he enjoyed it.

"I like it," he said and pushed aside a shudder.

The Governor smirked and drank for himself.

"You know Carl, I honestly didn't think you had it in you: I thought you were all bluff. I was going to ask you to kill one of my men…just shoot him in the head to prove yourself, and I didn't think you'd be able to do it. But Daryl…" the Governor took another larger drink than the first. "What you did to Daryl impressed me."

"I told you I wanted to kill him," said Carl.

"And you did," the Governor nodded, "you did. You killed him in front of your own father and sister too. You took the bat out of your dad's hands to do the job for him. I'm surprised he didn't thank you for it…disposing of the trash for him."

"_Daryl's not trash_," thought Carl but he nodded along with the Governor's words.

"He was your friend at one point, wasn't he? Well, I guess that doesn't matter anymore. It's too dangerous to have feelings in this world. Everyone you care about just gets taken from you at one point or another. But I'm proud of _you_, and I haven't felt that way about anyone in a long time. I think we'll be quite happy together, Carl. We're going to make a great team."

The Governor sat back in his chair to finish his whiskey while Carl rolled his glass between his hands. His only thought was to wonder if everything he'd done was going to be worth it in the end.

* * *

The day turned darker as the sun sank behind the pines at the prison. It had been a slow day and one marred with many unpleasant thoughts. The prison survivors ran themselves ragged speculating which man was going to be returning to them. Glenn tried to distract them by organizing their weapons, gathering food, and loading supplies into vehicles if they needed to make a quick escape. Everyone from the old to the smallest child had been armed and given a section of the prison to defend if they were called to war.

"I thought we'd know which one it is by now," he said as Michonne walked by. She stopped with the rifles in her arms and approached Glenn.

"Me too," she said honestly, setting the guns down.

"Something isn't right…" he said looking out over the field. "One of them should've been back by now. What was the point in sending the note if he's just going to kill them both?"

"He's crazy Glenn. We both know that. We'll be lucky to see either one again," said Michonne.

"Yeah…." agreed Glenn.

"How's Maggie and Hershel?" asked Michonne.

"They're hanging in there," answered Glenn, rubbing the back of his head. "But I don't know for how long."

"You better watch her—Maggie. She'll want revenge," said Michonne.

"We _all_ want revenge," corrected Glenn.

"That's not what I mean," said Michonne. "If this comes to a battle, make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. We have a plan and we need to stick to it. If any of us break ranks, we're done for. And if she sees a chance to get the Governor, she'll probably risk it."

"I know," said Glenn. "I'll ask Sasha to stay with her and Hershel tonight while we're on watch….damn it, it's been almost a day; why isn't someone back yet?"

"He made them walk?" supposed Michonne. "Carry the body of the other back?"

"So we can have a proper burial for him? Hell of a time for the Governor to find he has a heart," said Glenn.

"I don't know but it's too quiet though."

"You think we should've been shot at some more?" asked Glenn. "Maybe we can test the fences again."

"No," said Michonne, "it's not worth it. They're still out there. We'll know it when something changes."

Glenn nodded and stooped down to help Michonne carry the rest of the rifles. He couldn't help the troublesome feeling that something wasn't right. Whatever outcome though, they'd be prepared for it.

* * *

Rick was slowly pulled awake by a pounding to his left. His splitting headache only allowed him to crack his eyes open as the noise intensified. In the waning light, he was able to distinguish the outline of a walker pressed up against the car window next to him. He didn't care whether it was male or female, only that it was outside and he was inside the car. Its decaying hands scratched against the glass and it gnashed its teeth but it was harmless for the time.

The sheriff's sore hand clumsily searched the back of his head for the source of his discomfort and he grimaced when his fingers stroked the large bump.

"_Shit_," he swore, feeling like he'd been bashed with a baseball bat.

Rick felt his stomach tighten at the thought and he leaned over to the passenger seat to be sick. He coughed and hacked but there was little to come up. He was finally able to get enough up to satisfy his putrid stomach and he leaned back into the seat.

It all came back to him in a single name: Daryl.

A replay of the last twenty four hours ran involuntarily through Rick's head. First it was the memory of learning Daryl had been captured to actually seeing it for himself. Then it was the Governor making them decided which one of them died—which should have been Rick but Daryl offered himself instead. And then it was having to choose between Judith and Daryl…then the torture. Rick made himself remember in excruciating detail everything that madman made him to do Daryl: the whipping, the cutting, drowning, the nails, burning, and the beating. Everything he'd done to Daryl would be nothing compared to the Governor's punishment. He'd get the bastard back. And for Carl and Judith too. His children were forever lost to him. He'd stood idly by and watched his child murder someone—beat them to death with a barbed bat. It was sickening and Rick tensed as his stomach revolted again. How did he go so wrong with Carl? He'd never see Judith again or probably Carl for that matter. Even if they did manage to kill the Governor, he'd more than likely have them both killed before the battle commenced. Rick would then later find their tortured remains and know that Daryl died for naught.

But the Governor's demise would be little compensation for Daryl. His life had been invaluable and it was gone. All that he was and could've done was wasted on someone's sick game. Daryl had come so far and made a decent life for himself and others, but it was over. Rick tried to equate it to it being another life and more blood on his hands but it wasn't just anyone, it was Daryl.

Daryl had stood bravely and unwaveringly by his side until the very end. The only solace Rick could achieve was that at least all his pain and suffering was over. Daryl was in a better place because any place was better than the world he left behind. Volunteered to leave. It had been Daryl's choice and Rick realized it had saved both himself and his daughter. As much as Rick wanted to take the bullet from the Governor, and to trade Judith for Daryl, that path was now closed to him and there was no sense in trying to get back on it. Daryl was dead and turning into a walker at that very second. His life would not be wasted as long as Rick's and Judith's blood still flowed. If that was to happen, the Governor had to be killed, and if that was to happen, Rick had to mobilize those at the prison.

His mind made up, Rick began to search around in the small car for a weapon. The Governor, or Martinez at least, had kept his word and Rick had been left unconscious—but safely—in the woods somewhere near the prison, or so he hoped. He was sure Martinez had overseen his placement in a car that would keep the walkers at bay so he could return. Rick checked the ignition but didn't find the keys to start the car and he reevaluated his situation. If he couldn't drive, he had to go on foot. To do that he needed a weapon.

_Daryl's knife_. It'd been given back to him right before he was knocked out. Rick felt around and slit his finger on the blade as he found it tucked between the seats. It was all he had left now of his dear friend and brother. Just a knife and his crossbow back at the prison. It was a valuable weapon and he'd do the previous owner justice and use it well.

The first walker threw itself at the car's window again and was then joined by a friend. Rick paid them each half a glance only to appease his mind that neither was Daryl. He'd need a moment to compose himself when the time came to put Daryl down, if it ever did. Lately it seemed like every walker within ten miles was attracted to the prison so it was a possibility they'd see him clawing at the fence soon enough. How he was going to prepare the others for that, Rick didn't know. When they'd ask about Daryl, he'd tell them he died valiantly with his head held high, not as he did: weak, sobbing, and begging to be killed. Combined, he and the Governor had not just broken Daryl, but shattered him. He had been a man that deserved better and Rick would make sure only the memories of him being strong were passed down. He was their first hero and should be remembered as such. He could at the very least give Daryl that. Judith would know it too, when she was old enough. She'd learn who to thank for her life for it was not the man she'd call her father. Daryl was and would always be the hero.

Rick crawled over the passenger seat to avoid the pair of walkers at his side. He opened the door and stumbled out. The walkers having sensed their prey was now accessible, ambled around the front of the car and towards Rick. Rick waited for the first to come to him and then drove Daryl's knife into the center of its head. The second dropped just as easily and Rick wiped the blade on his pants. He listened for more growls but it seemed like it was only the two in the vicinity. The day only had a few minutes left before the sky turned to night and Rick hastily spun about trying to decide which was home.

Daryl would know. He had that natural compass in him.

"Which way?" Rick closed his eyes and asked an old memory of Daryl. The image of Daryl formed briefly in his mind and the figure raised an hand pointing to the East.

Rick opened his eyes and sighed. Having nothing else to go on, he decided to follow the memory and let it lead him blindly into the night.

* * *

A cricket chirped in one of the now quiet corners of the barn as night set in. It was the same barn that had witnessed so many heinous acts carried out earlier in the day. It had seen the destruction of one of the strongest men left in the world.

Daryl Dixon had been brought inside in relatively good spirits and then beaten down until he was begging for death to end his suffering. The Governor knew exactly how to torture Daryl to push him over his limit. It had been a pathetic display to see a man so utterly destroyed.

Daryl laid right where he'd been left after Carl's beating. No one had dared touch him. He'd been reduced to a red blemish that stained the hay on the barn floor. He wasn't worthy or deserving of anyone's time.

His back had been torn by knife and bat until white from his shoulder peeked out from under the split skin. The burn on his stomach and his dead skin peeled away. Rick's hands had beat his face until it'd be nearly unrecognizable by even those who knew him. It was the end for Daryl. He was to decay right there in the Governor's barn until the man saw it fit to set him free for Rick to stumble across.

On the other side of the barn, the door creaked open and a man with a knife stepped inside. He seemed to spot Daryl and approached him with long, purposeful strides. He stopped by Daryl and clicked his tongue impatiently while turning his head to the side as if he was inspecting the ruined body before him. Finally he crouched down by Daryl's head and placed the tip of his knife to Daryl's temple.

"Come on baby brother…you don't want to die like this…"

* * *

_The end. Just kidding!_

_I hope everyone liked that! Thanks again for all the support. :) Be back soon._


	48. To Live or Die

**DISCLAIMER:** I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS:** Rated T for language, violence, and gore.

* * *

_Sorry, had a really busy week and now I'm sick. If I didn't get something out today though, I probably wouldn't update for another week. Y'all have stuck with me this far, I hope you will understand. Thank you._

* * *

"Come on baby brother; get up…you don't want to die like this…"

Merle squatted by Daryl's side and dragged the tip of his knife-hand from Daryl's temple across his cheek, stopping under his chin. He raised it to tilt Daryl's head to the side.

"Come on; get up," repeated Merle.

"No, let him stay down in the dirt where he belongs," said a second, larger and tan man as he approached from the right.

Merle reared up ready to defend his brother from this new threat.

"Shane, wasn't it?" asked Merle, disdain heavy in his voice. "Yeah—I remember you. Can't say that you've been missed."

"Doesn't seem like Daryl spent much time missing _you_," said Shane, stopping on the other side of Daryl. Merle drew himself up to his full height but was still smaller in stature than Shane. Shane wasn't intimidated by the display and leered back. "No, he tried to think of you as little as possible. Ran off with Rick the first chance he got."

Both men looked down on Daryl who opened one of his eyes a fraction of an inch: Merle's name a whisper on his lips.

"I'm here for ya bro," Merle said, dropping down to his knees.

"Why bother—he's just going to die here," said Shane. He leaned casually against the wall to observe the scene. "Never was worth more than the shit that sticks to your shoes."

"Shut up Shane; you don't know anything," said a thin and dark haired woman that appeared from the corner. Shane watched Lori walk up to Merle and Daryl where she knelt.

Daryl's one functioning eye briefly found her drawn face, his hand moving to stroke hers but it closed upon air. To Daryl though, he felt the warmth from Lori's fingers run up his arm.

"Daryl did more for me, Carl, and Rick than you ever did," hissed Lori. "He's a good man and doesn't deserve to die like this."

"Damn straight," said Merle, nodding his head.

Shane scoffed and pitched his head back in laughter that was broken only by the sound of another set of footsteps entering the barn.

"It's a better death than being pulled apart by a walker…let him die," Dale commented, adding his opinion to the picture. "Let him go out with a sense of dignity."

"_Dignity?_" asked Shane. "Come on old man. What dignity is there in having some kid knock his brains in? He cried like a baby. I bet Rick is back at the prison right now telling them how pathetic he was up to the very end."

"He is not," shot Andrea, coming to stand between Merle and Lori.

"Why hello there Blondie," chuckled Merle, looking Andrea up and down. Andrea rolled her eyes but otherwise ignored Merle.

"Rick is going to tell them what Daryl did for him and especially for Judith," she said.

"Like any of that matters now," said Shane. "He's practically a walker."

Below them, Daryl groaned, his head a head jumbled mess of misshapen thoughts that he was unable to connect. It wasn't real, or so he thought. They weren't really there arguing over him, but he couldn't be sure that they weren't real either.

"Just let go Daryl; death isn't so bad," implored Dale once more.

"Yes it is," answered the voice of T-Dog, the image of the man appearing behind Lori a moment later. "Come on Daryl, you're stronger than this; what are you waiting for?"

"Apparently for something more than the apocalypse," said Mr. Mason. Daryl groaned again at the newest voice and turned his head to the side.

"Get out of here," said Merle and Lori defensively.

"No, I think I'm going to hang around for a while and watch this. I've never actually seen anyone turn. This should be fun," said Mason, joining Shane and Dale. "He's a piece of trash. Redneck, hick trash. I'm surprised the Governor wasted so much time on him."

"It's true," whispered Milton in his meek own way. Merle, Andrea, Lori, and T-Dog all shook their heads at the most recent addition. Milton made his way over to Dale and stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him. "Philip doesn't usually waste his time on someone as expendable as a henchmen. That being said, Rick will be able to replace Daryl as soon as he gets back to the prison."

"Man, you were just the Governor's butler…shut up," said Merle.

Mason and then Milton advanced towards Merle but were pushed back by the hands of Bob.

"There's no sense fighting when he's—" Bob sneered down at Daryl, "just going to be dead in a few minutes anyway."

"Dying in the dirt…glad he knows where his place is," said Shane haughtily.

"You're not going to give up Daryl," said Andrea. "I know you won't."

Daryl's head drifted listlessly around his shoulders, too weak to even lift it. He tried to remember anything about _anything_ but all he knew were the voices of his past friends and foes.

"If you die now, what will happen to Carol?" asked Lori.

"That bitch doesn't give a shit about _him_," declared the deep voice of Ed, Carol's former husband. Daryl twitched at the mention of Carol's name and he felt he should have a special connection to it. "Why the hell would she want him? He was all cut up before, now look at him. She'd puke if she saw him like this."

"I bet she and Rick are getting real cozy. She always had eyes for him," said Shane.

"She's a dumb bitch but she's smarter than to go for some crazy, squirrel-eating pussy," spat Ed.

"Just die already so we can be done with you," said Mason.

Daryl recognized the voices of several men agreeing with Mason and assembled together the memory of the Mexican guys that had kidnapped Glenn on their search for Merle. Another man was added to the mix that Daryl recognized as Jenner from the CDC. The former prison inmates all showed up expressing their sentiments that Daryl had death coming. Then Jim, Jacqui, Patricia, Amy, and Jimmy threw their two cents in all claiming Daryl was nothing.

Daryl was able to recover enough of his consciousness that he began to feel the pain that echoed throughout his body. Not an inch of him had been spared and he was paying for it dearly. The pain was at a level that he couldn't describe. He whimpered as each breath tested his ruined body and pushed him to the breaking point once again.

"Die already," hissed Amy.

"How can you say that?" Andrea asked of her sister. "You don't know him."

"I don't need to know him: I saw what he was like at camp," answered Amy.

"He's different now," said Lori softly.

"Nope," declared Ed. "Just as worthless as he was back then."

"What's the best way to describe him?" asked Jenner.

"Unpredictable," said Dale thoughtfully.

"Ugly," said Patricia and Jacqui.

"I'd never touch him," said Amy.

"Pathetic," remarked Ed.

"He was nothing more than a paperweight to Rick's plans," said Milton.

"A pawn that got knocked off the chess board first," said Mason.

"Weak," said Shane firmly. Daryl flinched and Shane moved in closer. "He's been weak his whole life. He was weak when his daddy was beating him. He was weak when Rick tortured him. And he thinks he should be special and have some honor attached to his death. He thinks they _love_ him. They never loved him. Not Rick, not Carol…none of them. They used him to fill their stomachs and guard their fences. Once he's dead, they won't even waste the sweat to dig a grave for him. No, they'll divvy up his things and move on. Daryl is expendable to them: he was a disappointment and a failure."

"Don't listen to them brother," whispered Merle, but it wasn't enough. Daryl opened his second eye just as darkness began to encroach upon him. The pain that was tethering him to the world was leaving him. A numbness settled into his limbs and he could feel his heart beginning to slow. Breathing seemed like a less important thing to do and Daryl wondered if he needed to at all.

"That's right," said the voice of Shane. "You finally learned to listen to direction…_die_."

Another series of chants and calls for his death broke out around Daryl. He sensed a pressing force closing in on him as the jeers became the loudest yet and blocked out those from his friends urging him to fight just a little longer. He relaxed, his muscles uncoiling and his body finding complete relief from the pain. The voices in his head all but disappeared and he was left with the resounding cries of "_die_, _die_, _die_."

Daryl was letting that go as well when something warm enclosed upon his hand. He wondered briefly what it could be but decided it didn't matter. Shane, Dale, Ed, Mason, Milton, Bob had all been right. He didn't matter and his death would not matter as well. He wasn't going to be missed. No one would cry at his grave or the mention of his name. He'd done nothing worth remembering and no list of deeds would follow him. He was doing his friends a favor by dying. Their lives would be made all the better without him around. No one needed his weak and sorry ass dragging them down anymore. Death, it was a good thing.

The warmth on Daryl's hand increased as he let out one more breath and decided he didn't need to take another. Breathing—living, he didn't need to do that anymore.

"Don't die Daryl…please don't die," whispered the soft voice of Sophia, pushing the others into the background as she clung to Daryl's hand. "You're not worthless. You're not weak. You're none of those things...Please Daryl; please don't die."

* * *

_I'm more than curious to know what y'all thought of that one. I hope I did the hallucinations/imaginary characters up to par. Just a little note, their arguments for Daryl to live or die are based off of a combination of that character's opinion of Daryl and how Daryl might've viewed that character and it's meant to signify his internal conflict to live or die._

_Once again, thank you all for your continued support :)_


	49. A Walk in the Park

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore.

* * *

First of all, thank you for all the great reviews of the last chapter. I loved getting ppr feedback. I'm sorry that I made some of the characters like Dale or Amy a little too harsh. But hey, Daryl just got hit in the head with a bat...he was bound to be a little screwey. Once again, had a bad week so yeah. I would like to thank Normryl (Therm) for being one of the first reviewers and having been here all along the way :)

* * *

Daryl sensed himself leaving the encompassing void that he'd fallen into and was being pulled back to life. The harsh voices urging him to die relented.

"Come on Daryl; fight…don't give up. Don't give up just like you did for me," said Sophia in an urgent whisper. "Please Daryl, don't give up. Don't die."

Despite everything in his body telling him not to, Daryl willed himself to take another breath in order to hear the sweet voice of Sophia again. The pain returned to him and he thought once more that giving up would be easier.

"Come on Daryl…"

"He should die," boomed Shane, cutting above Sophia. Daryl responded by opening his eyes, a small rebellion to those demanding his death. The image he saw was shaky and blurry but steadily cleared into the physical forms of the voices he'd been hearing. Sophia was at his side squeezing his hand with her two smaller ones. He focused on the warmth spreading from her and used it to combat the chill of death spreading over him.

"No he shouldn't," argued Sophia. She released Daryl's hand and crossed around him quickly to confront Shane head-on.

"Why should he live?" asked Shane. "He's nothing—this world doesn't need him."

"Yes it does!" Sophia yelled back. "He's the one good thing left in it!"

Shane laughed, shaking his head while towering over the small girl.

"Look you're like five so you don't understand this. There was never any place for him in this world. He's nothing…It'll be better for everyone if he dies," said Shane and then he looked around to the others who mostly nodded in agreement with him.

"SHUT UP!" Sophia shouted and rushed Shane.

Shane sneered down at her: he rolled his eyes, unconcerned with the girl. Sophia bit her lip and in a swiftness that no one was prepared for, landed a hard kick directly between Shane's legs. Shane instantly grabbed at himself, his mouth opening in both shock and pain and he crumpled to the barn floor.

"I told you to shut up," said Sophia, standing back to admire her work.

"Haha—I think I like this girl!" laughed Merle as he ruffled Sophia's hair. "That's what you get for being a bitch."

Shane moaned and rolled onto his side while still cupping himself.

"Daryl is a better man than you'd be in a hundred lifetimes," said Sophia.

"He still ain't worth shit," said Randall. "He got what he deserved."

"Hey! That's my little brother: say anything else and it'll be the last you ever say. Pick your words wisely," snapped Merle.

"He's…a…piece…of…_shit_…" Randall drew out each word and smirked.

Daryl felt something akin to anger rise up in him and he wanted to tell Randall off but didn't have the energy. If he couldn't, then hopefully Merle would do it for him. He forced himself to continue watching the scene in front of him and not fall back into a darkness he wouldn't return from.

Merle grinned but his jaw also tightened meaning he was planning something. Half a second later, Randall was flat on his back, spitting out teeth with an outline of Merle's fist around his mouth.

"Who's next?" demanded Merle as he looked around to the others. He raised his fist and his knife and assumed a protective stance over Daryl. Sophia joined him as well as Lori and Andrea.

"No one else is going to touch or say anything about him," said Lori.

"All of you need to leave," said Andrea.

"We'll leave when he's dead," said Ed.

"Go! Get out of here!" Sophia yelled at her father. "None of you belong here."

"And what are _you_ going to do about it?" asked Mason.

"This..." said Merle as he swung for Mason's head. A second later, an all-out brawl erupted around Daryl. His four guardians stood strong against those who wanted his death and one by one, they reduced the numbers of the ones putting down his fight for life.

Daryl begun to understand that it wasn't really happening but allowed it to continue anyways. The fight not only amused him but also gave him the heart that maybe he wasn't such a waste as he'd been told to think. Maybe there was a reason to live and people that wanted him to. Finally, Shane was the last one remaining. He'd crawled back to his feet in time to have both Sophia and Merle rush him and drive him up against the barn wall.

"Good bye," Sophia said just before Merle drove his knife through Shane's forehead and he vanished into nothing. Merle and Sophia both looked at each other to smile before returning to Daryl's side.

"You still with us?" asked Lori, concern evident in her face and voice.

Daryl nodded the best of what he was capable of.

"That's good Daryl…that's really good," said Lori.

"Alright bro," began Merle, "time to stop sitting on death's doorstep and get your ass up."

Daryl gave a light smile but his face turned into a grimace of pain when he moved the slightest.

"_Can't_…" he wheezed and settled back down.

"What, do you want to die?" asked Merle as he didn't attempt to soften his words for Daryl. "Cause that's the shit that's gonna happen if you don't get your ass up."

"_Merle!_ Be nice," whispered Lori. "He's trying."

"That ain't trying," said Merle. "He barely moved an inch."

Daryl did his best to glare up at his brother and pressed his hands against the floor to sit himself up. The move was slow and had a dizzying affect on Daryl. The pain it brought ate at him until he was going to give into it. Daryl shook his head: it was too much.

"Look, I got all the time in the world but you don't," said Merle. "What's going to happen when the Gov comes back in here expecting you to have turned and you haven't? Hmm?"

"I—I can't…" mumbled Daryl.

"Something you can't do? The world must have ended," scoffed Lori.

"Look around ya dumb bitch…the world did end," said Daryl. Lori stiffened while Andrea rolled her eyes.

"He speaks!" cried Merle. "Thought you were going to take the pussy's way out of this one."

"Shut up…" Daryl said with a shake of his head. "Ya don't understand…"

"Understand what?" asked Merle. "I've had paper cuts that bled worse than you. I don't understand why you can't get your ass up when you know you'll die if you keep sitting there."

"You don't want to die," said Sophia.

Daryl groaned.

"I know…gotta get back…get back home."

"That's right," said Lori. "They're all waiting for you. They want you to come back."

"Get your ass up," ordered Merle one more time. "Come on this is a walk in the park compared to what I had to do…cutting off own damn hand. All you have to do is stroll back to the prison."

Daryl resisted his brother's charm but finally gave in to it. He used one of the support beams to pull himself up and he wrapped an arm it once he was standing. He shook his head and then rested it against the wood.

"Can't go anywhere with this leg…"

Daryl couldn't dare to put any weight on the leg that Rick had driven the nails into. He could deal with his back and chest and his muddled head. But to walk back to the prison was going to be impossible with several pieces of steel set in his foot and leg.

"Fine," said Merle as he leaned against one of the walls. "Stand there all night and see what happens…I bet the Governor has a bullet to use on you."

"You can do it Daryl," whispered Sophia. "You've never given up yet." The little girl took Daryl's hand and tugged gently to get him to release the wooden beam. He raised his injured foot and placed it down as slowly as he could afford to. The slow step couldn't stop the instant pain that inflamed his leg and ran up his spine so hard that it nearly knocked him over. His lips trembled and a heated sweat spread across his skin.

"One down…" said Andrea.

"Too many more to go," finished Daryl.

"You're not even going to feel it after a while," said Lori with an encouraging tone.

"I'm gonna kick your kid's ass if I ever see him again…" said Daryl.

"He saved your life," said Lori. "Rick was so worked up he would have killed you."

Daryl paused: Lori was right. From what he could recall, Rick had already tried to drown him and certainly would have completely bashed his head in if allowed to. Carl had gifted him the possibility of life. It was slight, but it was a chance.

"Still gonna thank him…" said Daryl. He flinched and put his foot down again.

"Think of something else," said Andrea.

"Like what?" asked Daryl. "The hole burned in my stomach?"

"Yes?" questioned Andrea. "Whatever helps you."

Daryl rolled his eyes and stumbled towards the table. He caught the corner of it to give himself a small break. He looked down and saw his dried blood covering its surface.

"You're gonna want that," Merle said to him. Daryl snapped his head up: Merle appeared directly in front of him and pointed towards the knife that'd been left on it. "Come on dummy: did you think you'd be able to kill them biters with your bare hands when you're crying about not being able to walk?"

"_Shit_," Daryl hissed.

"Just because you look like 'em doesn't mean they'll leave you alone. Hell, you probably smell real good with all that blood you're running around in."

"You can do it Daryl. We know you can," said Sophia. She set her hand on Daryl's and guided it towards the knife. Daryl took it and held it loosely. "Come on let's get you home."

Sophia smiled and squeezed Daryl's hand to lead him away from the table and to the barn door. Daryl clumsily threw himself against the door and felt for the handle. He pushed it open and fell outside. He needed another moment to get his bearings straight and realized that it was nearly dark. Daryl placed a hand on the side of the barn to guide him around. He followed it without a problem except for being half dead and the pain that entailed. When he came to the corner of the barn, Daryl was able to look around and see the last of the sun as it set behind the forest of pines. From what he knew of the area, Daryl guessed he needed to head east. He paused again and looked back to the cabin. He briefly wondered what became of Rick but he wasn't going to devote much hope to the idea that he'd ever see his friend again.

Daryl only made it a few feet from the barn when _other_ voices reached him. He quickly processed that they were from his head and they'd be attached to real people. He identified three distinct sets: one of a unfamiliar male, the second from Martinez, the third was the Governor's.

"Which one ya gonna take out?" asked Merle. "Get the Governor. Martinez will kill ya quick for it. Do it."

Daryl didn't answer but moved the knife into position to attack with and a minute later, the three men appeared around the corner of the barn and Daryl lunged. Out of the darkness, he was able to make out the shapes of the men and he picked the one he didn't recognize. The man cried in surprise as Daryl wrapped an arm around his upper body and then stabbed him in the throat. Daryl drove the man to the ground and felt blood spurting up from the fatal wound. The other two men leapt back in surprise where Martinez pulled his gun. Daryl ignored it and instead growled as he ripped into the man's throat more.

"Don't shoot," came the Governor's thick voice to stop Martinez. "He turned…Let him go; I want Rick to find him."

"You sure?" asked Martinez.

Daryl tried to hide the knife in the man's throat and leaned over him to keep the other men from discovering he wasn't as dead as they were assuming him to be. He pulled at the guy's throat and brought a piece of flesh to his mouth and pretended to eat it but only smeared the blood around his face.

"Yes," said the Governor finally.

Daryl's heart jumped in relief. He'd passed for a walker.

"Let him go. He was already headed towards the prison…when he's done here he'll start that way as long as no one else distracts him: tell everyone to stay inside the rest of the night."

"Might be there by morning," said Martinez thoughtfully.

"Biters don't walk that fast," said the Governor. "Best he'd do is to get there by tomorrow night."

"Yeah…guess so," said Martinez.

"Let him finish his meal," said the Governor. Daryl listened as the two men walked away. He continued to pick at the man and then checked to make sure the others had gone indoors. He looked towards the cabin and saw the windows empty. Daryl stood as quickly as his body allowed him.

"Hurry up," hissed Merle.

"Gonna stick around?" asked Daryl, his voice strained. Attacking had pulled more of his precious energy out of him and he was drained from it.

"Of course we will," said Andrea.

"We'll stay for as long as you need us to," said Lori.

Daryl nodded and felt something take his hand. He looked down to see Sophia holding standing with him.

"Time to go," said Sophia. She smiled and Darryl struggled to walk again.

"A walk in the park, baby brother," said Merle. "Just a stroll out to pick some roses."

* * *

Daryl left the Governor's camp and headed east all the while being accompanied by Merle, Lori, Andrea, and Sophia. Merle, or as Daryl imagined him, led the group. He'd warn Daryl of an impending log he'd have to step over uneven ground that might throw him off. Lori and Andrea circled him and spewed endless rounds of praise that Merle often deemed as unwarranted. After all, he was just walking and not being forced to cut off a body part. Sophia though stuck right with Daryl. She never let go of his hand and was the first to help him up if he tripped and fell.

The walk was as hard on Daryl as he expected it to be, if not harder. Stumbling through walker infest woods was bad enough during the day while properly armed and healthy was tough enough. Daryl was doing it in the dead of night, with a knife, and driven out of his mind with pain from his injuries. He couldn't let himself think of it but it was ever present and something he couldn't ignore. His shoulder was tugged cruelly every time he put out a hand to catch himself or grab onto a tree. His back had grown stiff and he swore that if he lived, he'd never get his muscles to relax. Then he was having a hard time even getting a decent breath with his busted ribs. Then there was his head that throbbed and messed with his thoughts. He had to concentrate on keeping his visions there with him otherwise he was afraid they'd slip away and he'd be left abandoned.

That pain was nothing compared to his stomach. Daryl couldn't look at it. Knowing it was there was bad enough. He couldn't help but wince with every movement that had sweat dripping onto his burned skin. It screamed at him and more often than not, had him falling to his knees or against a tree. The nails in his foot and leg gave him the most trouble as he felt them all with every single step he took. Andrea had suggested stopping to try to take them out at one point but Merle had convinced him to continue on. It was too dangerous to stop and if he did stop, he might not get back up again.

Daryl used more of his energy recovering from the pain as it flared up than he did actually walking. The others gave him all the encouraging words he needed to hear but it wasn't working. Somewhere back in his mind, Daryl heard Rick's voice telling him he was weak.

"Don't listen to that," said Merle sharply. "You know he wasn't telling the truth."

"The Governor made him say that: Rick really does need you," said Lori.

Daryl huffed, lost his focus, and stumbled. He fell face first into the dark ground and lay there breathing heavily.

"I can't—can't do this," he whimpered.

"Yes…you…can."

Sophia was right there with him pulling at both his hands to get him up. Daryl resisted though, and in reality, his hands rested on the ground.

"Ya were a good kid…sorry I never found ya," said Daryl, his eyes drifting close.

"Nope: none of that," said Merle. "This is the last time I'm going to tell you to get your ass up. You're not going to die in the dirt like some dog."

Somewhere, Daryl found the energy to agree with his brother. His feet nearly went out from under him but Daryl did continue. He had to get back home. He had to help his friends. He had to kill the Governor.

"Daryl you're getting too far ahead of yourself…just think of putting one foot in front of the other. You don't have to kill the Governor: let someone else do that," said Andrea.

"I wanna kill him: he killed Merle…took Beth and Lil' Ass Kicker. Did this shit…"

Daryl came to an abrupt and swaying stop.

"Walker. You'll have to kill it," said Andrea quickly. Daryl sensed Sophia draw in closer to him all the while he wanted to hide behind his vision of Merle and make him kill it.

"What, you think you can outrun it? It's already smelled you," said Merle. "Gonna be coming around that tree on your left in about ten seconds."

Daryl closed his eyes in order to clear his head. He needed to think straight about this. He had a real walker coming at him at night, he had one small knife, and he was injured to the point he could barely stand. Daryl pulled himself together in time to hear the growls from the approaching walker. He steadied himself by leaning against the nearest tree and waited for his chance to attack. Out of the darkness, he made out the shape of the dead hand reaching towards him and followed it up until he found its head. The thing growled again and Daryl summoned all his energy and put it into his left hand. He raised the knife, thrust it forward, and into the head of the walker. It fell back, taking both the knife and Daryl with it. The walker cushioned Daryl's fall somewhat but the shock was still felt throughout his body. He stayed there gasping until the sound of a second walker nearing had him scrambling back up.

Daryl dispatched the second one in the same manner but released the knife quicker so he didn't fall. Instead, he had to lean over to get the knife and his whole body protested. His head spun which made his stomach roll and he clutched at it, his hand pressing into his burn. Daryl dropped to the ground in pain where he found no comfort as the forest floor was ruthless shoved into his tender back.

"Quit making so much noise. You're like a damn baby and will have all those things on you," Merle was quick to chastise.

"Merle…it hurts…"

"We know it does," said Lori as she knelt to Daryl's position. "But you're strong: you'll make it."

"Gonna die here," murmured Daryl.

"Don't put yourself and dying into the same sentence," shot Andrea. "You're better than that."

"Please Daryl, you have to keep going," begged Sophia.

"Look, there's a third walker comin' and we can't exactly take care of it for you," said Merle.

Daryl flinched in acknowledgment of the hungry growls approaching him. He found the knife again and got to his knees and then stood. He listened again for the growls and decided they were coming from behind him. Daryl didn't waste another second and hobbled for the east with all the speed he could.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? You gotta kill that thing!" Merle shouted at him.

"Can't…" Daryl panted the one word, his entire being solely focused on finding the prison.

"You're not strong enough Daryl…it's going to catch you," warned Andrea.

"There's always more 'round the prison…must be getting' close. Moon's comin' up too and can see more," said Daryl, pointing to the sky. "Easier to find my way and can go faster."

Daryl gained speed and pushed himself along. The forest passed around him and he was able to pick out the shapes of trees farther away and not just those in his immediate area.

"Daryl, you need to slow down. Kill it and walk slower to save your energy," said Sophia, her voice raising concern.

"You've got to stop: you're pushing yourself too hard," said Andrea.

"Yeah and because I didn't push myself is why we lost her—" Daryl looked down beside him at Sophia. "I coulda gone out more after her but I didn't. She'd be alive now if it wasn't for me."

"Is that was this is all about?" asked Sophia as she stopped. "You couldn't save me so you had to save Judith? You did that because of me?"

Daryl paused and looked back.

"Wasn't just for ya…had to show I was worth somethin' to 'em. Rick and Carl needed Judith. Hell, we all did. She's our baby. Like ya…we needed ya too, especially yer momma—"

Daryl was going to say more but the image of Sophia was disrupted by the walker that cut through her. It lunged after him and Daryl backed up to avoid it's reach while he prepared to stab it. The thing attacked again and Daryl countered it by plunging his knife towards its head. The walker's hand latched onto Daryl's arm and the knife's blade skimmed its head and did not produce a fatal stab. It hissed at him and grabbed him with its other hand. Daryl struggled to shake it off and shifted the grip on the knife. He tried to bring the knife back into a position to kill it, but the walker had more weight on it and was able to force Daryl into taking a step back rather than attack.

"Get off me," hissed Daryl, twisting his body to get free. The walker pressed against him again, its teeth snapping inches from Daryl's face. Daryl recoiled at the rotting smell, taking another step back. His foot however landed not on ground but on a rock that rolled out from under him and Daryl went down. As he hit, the knife was jarred out of his hand and Daryl could feel his consciousness slipping. The walker descended on him and Daryl was able to raise his left arm out and pushed against its throat to keep it at bay. It's hands clawed at his chest—nails scraping against his skin as Daryl searched for the knife. What he found though was not a knife but a rock the size of his fist. At that point, Daryl couldn't be picky and he rammed it into the walker's skull. The impact momentarily stunned the walker but didn't kill it. Daryl groaned and went to bash its head again when his hand was caught by something.

A set of cold and clammy fingers wrapped around his wrist and Daryl turned to see a second walker that was about to take a bite out of his hand. He whipped his hand back in but at the same time, allowed the first walker to inch closer to his throat. Daryl groaned and kicked out at the first to drive it off him. He felt its weight leave and hit it a final time with the rock, shattering its skull and dropping it. Daryl's enthusiasm was short lived as the other walker replaced the first. Daryl put everything he had into killing it with two hits from the rock and then sagged into the tree behind him. He wanted so bad to close his eyes and let it all end.

"I'm done," Daryl whispered to the empty forest. "Please don't leave me…I'm not gonna make it."

"We'll stay with you Daryl," said Lori as she, Merle, Andrea, and Sophia appeared out of the haze of Daryl's mind. "We're right here."

"I'm not gonna make it," repeated Daryl, his voice cracking and his head drifting to the side.

"Damn it Daryl…" Merle knelt next to his fallen brother and took his chin and held it firmly but spoke gently. "I ain't never begged anyone before, not even for my own life, but I'm begging you now: please don't die."

Daryl raised his eyes to meet Merle's and then they slid down to the left. He shook his head.

"You're not done yet…I don't mind waiting for you. You're not done giving this world hell. You've got more to do. You can't leave now," said Merle giving Daryl a shake.

"Can't," breathed Daryl. The same feeling back at the barn returned to Daryl as everything was slowly washed away. The pain was leaving him again and Daryl tried to focus on his friends for as long as he had left with them. All four of them seemed to sigh and accepted their defeat.

Andrea stood first with a tear falling from her eye. "You did good Daryl…you put up one hell of a fight. It was more than I ever did. I'm proud of you and glad that you were my friend—thank you."

Andrea gave Daryl's hand one last squeeze and she was gone. Lori wiped her eyes and brushed the hair on Daryl's forehead. "Daryl, I don't know how to begin to thank you. You've saved my family. Judith, Carl, Rick—all of them. I don't know how you did it. You're the greatest thing that ever happened to Rick—I want you to know that. The two of you might never get to see it but it's true. I can't thank you enough for all you've done. You've given my family a second chance Daryl." Lori leaned over Daryl and kissed his forehead. Daryl's mouth twitched but otherwise he was still, his eyes going to Sophia.

The little girl was sobbing heavily and Daryl hated that it was for him. "I'm sorry," she began, "I'm sorry that I caused so much trouble and you got hurt. I didn't mean for it to happen."

"Not your fault," whispered Daryl, a shudder wracking his body.

"Thank you for coming after me; you really did care. You cared about me and my mom. Above all, she needed to see that someone did care about her. I know you won't ever admit it, but you do love her. And she knows it. Even though you didn't want to show it, she saw."

Daryl nodded and Sophia pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek before backing up to stand next to Merle who was shaking his head.

"Alright brother, if this is your choice," said Merle. "I still say that you're not done yet. But…you put up one hell of a fight. You're a better man than me. You were never weak, not any part of you."

"Love ya bro," said Daryl, his focus on the world going out.

"Love ya too man," said Merle. "See ya in a minute."

Merle patted Daryl's arm once and stood. Daryl watched Merle turn and head towards Sophia. "I think we're gonna be good friends: I like what you did to Shane back there," Daryl heard him say.

Daryl gazed forward again and would he have had the energy, might've been startled by the sight. Something fired in Daryl's brain that told him he'd seen it before but he wasn't sure where or when. It'd been years, not that it mattered. As Daryl pieced it together, he smiled at the disheveled dog trotting his way.

"Hey—Merle," he called back to his brother. Daryl turned his head to see Merle still standing with Sophia. Daryl raised a finger to point towards the dog. "Look, it's a Chupacabra…told ya they were real."

Merle looked at the dog and rolled his eyes. "Man that ain't a Chupacabra…you've been eating too many squirrels," he said and waved Daryl off. Daryl watched Merle put a protective arm around Sophia's shoulder and together they faded away.

Daryl glanced once more at his Chupacabra running towards him and it disappeared behind a tree and he closed his eyes. He didn't open them again to see not his mythical Chupacabra emerging on the other side, but Rick as the man ran towards him.

* * *

No, Rick is not really a chupacabra. Daryl can see whatever he wants to when hes so messed up. For some reason, this chapter has been an unusual source of relief and comfort. Strange. But what's Rick to do now?


	50. A Shot in the Dark

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own AMC's and Robert Kirkman's "The Walking Dead" or any of its characters/places. There may be a few OCs at a later time and those will be mine. (NO MARY SUES).

**WARNINGS: **Rated T for language, violence, and gore.

Ok so due to numerous technical problems, aka my computer being a little bitch, most of this chapter got lost/deleted. I'm really sorry for that especially since I liked this chapter. Again, I'm sorry. I don't have time today to go digging for it so I posted what I could. When I find the other half, I'll post it. Thank you guys.

* * *

Rick stumbled the last few feet to Daryl. He was sure now that it was Daryl, before he hadn't been so certain.

He'd heard a commotion that sounded like someone fighting with multiple walkers. Originally he wasn't going to think much of it and reasoned that it was one of the Governor's men becoming a late night snack. If it was one of the men stationed to guard the prison, all Rick had to do was wait for the walkers to be distracted by eating the man, then he'd be allowed to slip by.

Rick had crouched behind a tree while he listened to the fight and then as it died down. Finally there was nothing left except for a few painful gasps as someone took their last breaths. Rick decided it was safe enough and stepped around the tree. He held back as he heard a man speak, the voice barely reaching his ears. His brow furrowed as it seemed like the man was talking to someone but there was no return dialogue. It was possible the man was using a radio, perhaps even asking for backup, and Rick turned to go in the other direction. The thought that it could be Daryl never crossed his mind until he heard the man calling for Merle.

Rick avoided the three dark walker corpses and knelt by Daryl. He was quiet now and Rick's hand immediately went to his neck to fell for a pulse. He'd ask himself how it was possible that Daryl had made it into the forest when he'd seen him be brutally murdered. Unless he _wasn't_ killed to begin with…Daryl was alive now, or had been and Rick knew that he was too late: that whatever miracle had worked to spare Daryl's life had been allowed to expire. Rick found no pulse thought and he began to release Daryl. As his hand slid down, Rick felt a delicate twitch under his fingertips and then a weak breath as it grazed the back of his hand.

"Daryl…" whispered Rick slowly. He waited and again felt a thump from Daryl's heart being echoed in his veins. Daryl was alive. Rick looked to the heavens to thank his lucky stars as tears framed his eyes. "I'm going to get you home," he said. Knowing Daryl way only have a few minutes left, Rick heaved him up. Daryl dipped in his arms as he was unable to support any of his own weight. Rick grunted and stood, pulling Daryl up with him.

At that point, Rick looked over his options. He could either put Daryl over his shoulder to carry him the rest of the way to the prison or he could drag him there. There was a third option to leave Daryl and run back quickly for help, but if Daryl was going to die, Rick wanted to be by his side when it happened. Abandoning Daryl, even if it was for his own good, was not an option. After a moment of indecision, Rick checked Daryl once more and heaved him up across his back and shoulders. Ignoring his own fatigue, Rick pushed on. This was his final chance to save Daryl.

* * *

"It's strange they haven't attacked us yet, don't you think?" asked Karen. "I mean…nothing has happened. We haven't seen or heard anything."

"That's good though, right?" countered Carol. "Maybe Daryl and Rick put up a fight and killed some of them."

The woman looked around the group with the most optimism any of them had had that day. Glenn, however, sighed and rubbing his stinging eyes. The day and currently night had been unforgiving and any hope in a happy ending had all but been extinguished. He'd settled on and nearly accepted the fact that they'd never see either man again. He would still lead the prison to war with the Governor just to ensure his death. Every war has its causalities and Rick and Daryl were their first.

"No..if things got out of control with the Governor, we'd know about it," he said, bringing out the truth. "We'd be getting shot at and someone would be plowing through our gates while launching grenades at the cell block. He's got us trapped right where he wants us."

When Glenn finished speaking, he sat down and put his head in his hands. He felt someone rubbing his shoulders and looked up to see Maggie standing behind him. She smiled though her eyes did not show it. He glanced around the circle of candlelight and at the faces of the prison: they were either tired or scared, or tired of being scared.

"I'm going out to relieve Michonne…just try to sleep while you can," he said low and quick, shaking his head.

"Glenn…" said Maggie as she reached out to take his hand. Glenn turned to look back at her but dropped his eyes and continued out the cell block. He retrieved his gun from beside the door and threw it over his shoulder, the door slamming behind him. Outside the prison, the night was thick and he sighed again. He wanted something to happen—anything.

Glenn spotted the outline of Michonne up on the as she peered off into the darkness. "Comin' up," he announced and climbed to meet her.

Michonne's katana was slung across her back and a rifle rested against the fence so she could be prepared for a long range attack. The woman didn't say anything as Glenn approached and he could see that she was watching out over the prison yard with a pair of binoculars.

"Anything?" he asked.

"I think they left," she said low and quick.

"What?" asked Glenn. "Left?"

Michonne nodded.

"About an hour ago I heard some trucks start up and it sounded like they drove off."

"Have you tested the fences?" asked Glenn. "This could be our shot to get some of these people out before the fighting starts or we could launch a surprise attack."

"I don't think that will work," said Michonne as she lowered the binoculars. "They probably got called back to prepare for an attack on us."

"Then we might only have a few hours…we need to do something now," said Glenn.

Michonne turned to Glenn and he could see the anger in her dark eyes. "Glenn, we can't do anything tonight. It's too dark and dangerous to go running off into the woods. He'll just pick more of us off. Think of Maggie: you really want her going back to _him_?"

"Damn it," hissed Glenn. He placed his head against the fence while his eyes scanned the grounds. He could just barely make out the far tree line. He extended his hand to ask for the binoculars from Michonne and then raised them to his eyes. With the binoculars, he scanned the edge of the forest. He wasn't sure he was looking for anything, just anything that seemed out of place. There were the usual walkers that pressed up against the fence and a few others that stumbled around the backfield.

Glenn shifted his gaze from the left back over to the right just as something larger than a single walker exited the forest. The dark mass crept closer to the fence and Glenn focused in on it.

"What is that?" he wondered aloud.

"Where?" asked Michonne.

Glenn lowered the binoculars and passed them back over to Michonne.

"I don't know what it is…over to the left there but heading to the gate."

"Get your gun ready," said Michonne as she too focused in on the mystery figure.

At her warning, Glenn brought up his rifle, and was staring down its scope. He put the center of the figure in the crosshairs, his finger flicking the safety of the gun off.

"It's not a walker," said Michonne.

"_Governor_," whispered Glenn. He inhaled deeply then let it out slowly to steady himself. One bullet, he only needed one bullet to end the Governor's reign of terror for good. Glenn's finger twitched against the trigger. "I'm taking the shot."

"Wait," said Michonne desperately.

"No: we've had too many chances and let him go in each one," replied Glenn. He followed his target with the crosshairs and squeezed the trigger.

The gun's blast echoed around the prison's exterior and the recoil forced the rifle's butt into his shoulder. Within the scope he saw the figure drop to the ground and he smiled in satisfaction. "Got him," he declared and lowered the gun. To his left, he caught Michonne gaping at him. He shrugged and found her lack of response off-putting. They both turned back to the field as the silence rolled back in.

"I think we should go check it out," said Glenn. "If I didn't kill him he might be wounded and he can escape again."

"We'll take one of the cars," said Michonne as she drew out her katana. Glenn went to one of the trucks while Michonne opened the first series of gates for him. She hopped in the back as he drove through, her sword flashing in the dim light. At the next gate, she jumped out again and opened it up for Glenn. He drove through cautiously while his eyes darted around the forest, his mind telling him they might be heading right into a trap. He expected to be shot at any moment and waited for his windshield to shatter. Nothing happened though and he kept driving but turned left.

"Glenn, the walkers!" he heard Michonne call out from the back of the truck.

Glenn turned and looked out the side window at the walkers that were leaving the fence and stumbling in the direction that he was driving. They weren't chasing the truck which meant they had to be after something alive on the ground. Glenn decided it was worth risking revealing their location and turned the truck's headlights on. Several yards in front of them, the beams landed on a walker that was already crouched over the man Glenn assumed he had shot.

"Hell yeah…that's what you get you bastard," said Glenn. He stopped the truck while Michonne dismounted from the back. As she went to join Glenn, she sliced through the head of the nearest walker and it crumpled lifelessly. Together, Glenn and Michonne moved closer to the walker and man. Both began to slow as they got closer; Glenn thinking the body on the ground was much thinner than what he remembered the Governor looked like. He was already rather torn up too with his exposed chest bloodied and discolored which would make identifying him difficult but they could do it: just count the number of eyes the man had. Glenn shifted his attention from the body to the walker and was instantly puzzled: it wasn't eating the man. It was crouched over him but Glenn didn't hear the sounds of it tearing and eating that were associated with a fresh kill.

"What the…" he started to say but stopped when he saw a knife on the ground next to the walker. Michonne, however, took another step and raised her katana to cut through the walker. Glenn reached out to stop her: his hand closed on her wrist and she turned sharply back to glare at him.

"What are you—"

"It's Rick and Daryl," he said quickly.

Michonne's face went blank, her sword falling from her hand.

"That's Rick and Daryl," he repeated then his stomach bottomed out: he just shot one of them. "Oh shit…"

He rushed to the "walker" and realized that it wasn't a walker but Rick as he was bent over Daryl's upper body acting as a shield.

"_Don't shoot…don't shoot…_" whispered Rick, his arms wrapped around Daryl's shoulders. "Help me."


End file.
